I'm So Lonely
by Mina1914
Summary: Arthur, as a punk rocker, is lonely, and hates everyone. Until he meets a specific Frenchman who cures his loneliness.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Kirkland was lonely. Maybe he was lonely because he hasn't been in a committed relationship in over five years. Maybe he was lonely because no one liked him. Maybe he was lonely because he was miserable.

But, to him, it didn't matter. It didn't matter what people thought about him anymore. It didn't matter what he did anymore. It didn't matter what he did or what he said.

To him, loneliness was a gift. Loneliness granted him acceptance of betrayal, seeing as he was used to it. Loneliness allowed him to have quick shags without having to deal with his 'partner'.

And even in his beat up, low-quality apartment, loneliness is what kept him sane. Among all the piles of torn and filthy clothes and the piles of CD's and the stacks of record tracks, he found comfort. The comfort of his privacy. The comfort of his _Fender _guitar that he occasionally, if not constantly, played on or strummed or scarred with the scratches of his rings.

And almost every other night when he would stand on that platform in front of that not-so-big, and sometimes large, crowd, he would scream into the mic that was presented before him with the stress of loneliness and the insanity that was locked in him that he could let out. The sweat, and the smell, as well as the adrenaline, would wash away his poisoned thoughts.

But once he finished his last song, he would take his guitar strap off his shoulder and storm off the stage, leaving the crowd cheering. And each time he ran into an unwanted fan or some business associate, he would look at them with a condescending scowl and sometimes a sneer.

Once he escaped all of the unneeded attention, to the band's dressing room, he would fish out his cigarettes and pluck the last one out before lighting it with a flame from his almost-empty lighter. And he would stand there, leaning against the farthest wall, smoking in silence with hatred in his mind and in his eyes, his rings dotting his fingers, his red leather jacket with pins and studs decorating it over his shoulders and arms.

* * *

><p><em><strong>September 18th, 2006<strong>_

And that one time of this routine, once his last cigarette burned to it's last burn, he dropped it onto the stained carpet before smashing it down with his foot, staining the carpet further.

"I would advise against that.", he heard after he finished grinding his foot hastily into the bud, snapping his piercing emerald eyes up to the stranger who had welcomed himself into the band's dressing room.

"And why is that?", Arthur had hissed back in annoyance, slitting his eyes at the stranger who had shoulder-length light blonde hair that shone almost too proudly. The stranger's aqua eyes had been staring at Arthur's face, studying the piercings dotting his skin.

"Why ruin your pretty face like that?", the stranger had asked in a solemn tone as he walked past the door frame, into the cluttered room. Arthur crossed his arms, and leaned heavily against the wall, "Why don't you leave me the _fuck_ alone?" The impatient and easily-annoyed Brit ran his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling his snake bites, the cold metal tasting like rust.

He heard chuckling come from the blue-eyed stranger as he approached Arthur, stepping over a pile of punk-looking clothes. "Because I came here to see you. Now why would I leave so soon?", he purred, his eyes fixed on Arthur's, Arthur knowing very well that look of stubbornness in them.

"So you just want a bloody autograph or something? I don't do that, _sorry_.", he hissed the last word sarcastically, baring his teeth at him. A grin spread over the man's lips, revealing white teeth. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at it.

The stranger took a step forward, now a bit too close to Arthur, for Arthur's taste. "_Non, _I do not want an 'autograph'.", he said with his heavy accent, Arthur taking note that he was clearly not from around here.

"Then what do you want? If you just want to talk, I'm not fucking interested. Now leave me alone.", Arthur snapped impatiently, glaring at him crossly. "Maybe _this _is why no one likes you, _oui_?", he had replied with a smirk. Arthur went tense, his thick eyebrows smoothing out before he furrowed them again.

"I don't know what you're talking about, prick.", Arthur retorted, averting his eyes. He jumped once he felt fingertips touch his eyebrow ring, returning his eyes to the stranger's.

"Obviously, you are putting on this so called 'punk' act because you are lonely..", the man murmured as he touched his eyebrow ring softly. Arthur raised his hand to slap his fingers away. "Who the fuck are you anyways? Who do you think _I _am?", Arthur snarled, pushing off the wall to seem threatening.

"Francis.", the stranger spoke, ignoring his attempt of scaring him off. Arthur dropped his scowl, his lips relaxing into a frown, "What?"

"You asked who I was. I'm Francis. And you are Arthur.", the stranger, now not so stranger, replied calmly as he watched Arthur with his distant, and slightly wise looking eyes. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, standing before the man called 'Francis' with a feeling of unease forming and sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"So what? So what if your name is Francis? I don't care. You got to meet me, and being the unpleasant person I am, you're probably disappointed. Now you can leave.", Arthur grew nervous, fearing he might see through his attempt of shutting everyone out.

"And I will repeat myself; now why would I leave so soon?", Francis replied.

* * *

><p>Three months later, Arthur had left the band.<p>

Three months later, he cleaned out his apartment and threw out all of his CD's (except for a few _Frank Sinatra_'s and _Beatle_'s he had received from his mother before she passed away) as well as all of his torn and trashy clothes. And within a few weeks he had filled his wardrobe with 'normal' clothing: sweaters, slacks, skinny jeans (he kept his favorite pair when he threw out the rest), vests, dress shirts, and the sort.

And within only a few weeks, he had moved into Francis' Victorian house after making a few adjustments regarding his privacy and space.

* * *

><p><em><strong>March 21st, 2009<strong>_

Arthur paced into the walk-in closet in their bedroom, to the small desk that had a few drawers in the corner. He reached out to curl his fingers around the nob of the drawer before he slid it out, revealing the cluttered interior. He reached in to push aside all of the photographs and old movie tickets to get to the small case he kept in the corner.

He lifted it out of the drawer and placed it on the bare top of the desk before he opened it with slight anticipation. He smiled at it's contents, before he lifted his fingertips to brush them down the outside of his old rings that he had worn years back, when he first met Francis.

He studied them with adoring eyes before he slid his favorite one out of it's place, staring at it's details in silence. He grinned once he slipped it onto his pinky (it's slightly too large now), studying the carved-in skull and the cross.

"Hmm..that's too bad. It doesn't fit anymore.", he heard Francis speak up behind him, Arthur glancing back to see Francis looking over his shoulder. Arthur returned his eyes to the ring on his pinky, "Yes, but maybe it's a good thing it doesn't."

"And why is that?", Francis asked. Arthur smiled lightly.

"Because it means that I left that phase behind.", he answered as he turned to face Francis, sliding his ring off and reached behind him to place it on the desk. Francis smiled, "It's good to hear acceptance coming from you."

Arthur grinned, revealing his teeth, before he reached up to cup Francis' cheeks and press his lips to the Frenchman's softly.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _This is the day after they first meet._

* * *

><p>"Oh. It's <em>you<em>. Leave me alone, for fuck's sake!"

"No need to be uptight, Arthur.", Francis retorted as he grinned at the snooty punk rocker who was sprawled on the beat up couch in the band's dressing room, with a cigarette between his middle and index fingers. He walked past the doorway, like a day ago, into the messy room, receiving a puckered glare from the Brit.

"Y'know what this is considered? Bloody stalking. Now fucking leave me alone or else I'll call security. Or I might _throw _you out myself!", Arthur spat furiously, his cigarette wasting away between his fingers.

"Ah ah ah, what did I say?", Francis waggled an index finger as he walked up to him, standing in front of him and the couch he was perched on. "I don't give a fuck. _Go away._", Arthur snarled, his eyes slitting at him crossly.

"Why are you so rude, _Sourcils_?", Francis asked innocently as he brushed the dust and garbage off the other end of the couch before he turned and took a seat beside the Brit.

"Why are you sitting on my bloody couch? And what the fuck does..'Soolseal' mean anyways?", Arthur felt annoyance boil in him, his eyebrows furrowing as he scowled at the Frenchman.

"Because I wish to. And that means 'eyebrows'. Tone down the cursing, if you please?", Francis crossed his legs and rested a hand on his knee, his other hand resting in his lap as he glanced over at Arthur, raising an eyebrow at him.

An annoyed scoff came from Arthur, "What, is 'eyebrows' your pet name for me?" He raised his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the cancer before he lowered his hand into his lap lazily, blowing the smoke out past his lips after a moment.

"I suppose.", Francis watched him from the corner of his eyes. "It's a bloody stupid pet name. And who even said you could make up one for me? I don't even _know _you!", Arthur snapped at him, sitting up slightly straighter.

"Ah, but you do know me. My name is Francis. I do believe I told you only yesterday, _oui?_", Francis smiled at him. Arthur only tsked and returned the bud of the cigarette to his chapped lips as he rested back down on the couch.

A moment of silence passed through them, Francis only studying his features. He had snake bites, two eyebrow rings, and three piercings in each ears. He paused once Arthur ran his tongue over his bottom lip – and snake bites - out of habit. Also a tongue piercing.

"You wouldn't happen to have another cigarette, would you?", Francis asked with a light tone. Arthur glanced at him with an annoyed look before he fished his calloused hand into his skinny jean's pocket, pulling out his cigarettes. He flipped it open, taking note of the last one.

He averted his piercing bottle green eyes to the Frenchman before he raised the cigarettes up to him with a frown. Francis grinned at him before he lifted his hand from his lap to pluck the last one out.

"Do you-", Francis began. "Yeah yeah.", Arthur cut him off with an irritated tone as he retrieved his lighter. Francis smiled at him widely before he placed the bud of the cigarette between his lips, holding the cigarette up between his index and middle fingers.

A flame shot out as Arthur lit it, the end of the cigarette burning a bright red. Francis leaned back onto the couch once Arthur lowered his hand, shoving his lighter back in his pocket.

Francis inhaled deeply before he pulled the cigarette from his lips, resting his hand on the couch's armrest, sighing contently. He blew the smoke out from his nose, glancing over at Arthur.

The Brit was staring at the stained wall across the room with distant eyes, his cigarette burning away. Francis watched him as he returned his cigarette to his lips, lowering his eyes as he studied his body. He smirked to himself, imagining him naked, before he blew smoke out of his nose.

Francis noticed him avert his eyes to his, his lips in an unamused frown. Francis grinned sheepishly at him, receiving a scowl from the Brit.

"What do you even want from me?", Arthur broke the silence, furrowing his wide eyebrows. The smile on Francis' lips faltered slightly. "I don't want anything from you.", he stated simply, raising the cigarette to his lips once more.

"Yeah. Whatever. You want money right? I don't even have much myself.", Arthur sneered, grinding the rest of his cigarette into the cluttered ashtray that was resting on the couch's armchair. Francis frowned, "_Non._ I don't." Arthur glanced over at him.

"Then want do you bloody want? Don't lie to me, wanker."

"Nothing!", Francis answered a little bit too loud, his eyebrows furrowing. The Brit paused, his eyebrows raising. "Then..why are you here?", he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Francis'.

"To keep you company. Simple as that. Nothing more or less.", Francis answered, taking another inhale of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out of his nose. Arthur frowned, "But why?"

"Because you're always by yourself. Except for fans once in awhile and such.", Francis smiled at him lightly. Arthur scoffed, "I'm not always by myself.."

"You don't have to lie to me, Arthur.", Francis said sternly. Arthur glanced over at Francis before he glared at him, "Who said I was lying, prick?" Francis laughed, "I can tell just from your face, you are lonely. But I've come here to fix that!"

The Brit sighed in annoyance, "I'm _not _lonely, idiot!"

"_Oui, oui_."

Francis chuckled as Arthur grumbled to himself. "Fuck! Now I don't have anymore cigarettes thanks to _you_!", Arthur growled, glancing at him with a glare. Francis smiled at him before holding out his cigarette to him, "Have mine?"

"Forget it..", Arthur mumbled as he averted his eyes from his hand to the wall across the room, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket straining. Francis only grinned and happily returned the cigarette to his lips.

A few minutes of silence passed, the smoke from Francis' cigarette billowing around them. Francis flickered his eyes to Arthur, noticing how he was staring at the wall across the room again, his eyes distant once more. What was he thinking about?

Francis stared at him for a little bit before he smirked and put his cigarette out. He uncrossed his legs to lean over towards Arthur, sliding his hand over the Brit's thigh.

"Arthur.", Francis said blankly as he moved his hand to the inside of Arthur's thigh. Arthur snapped out of his thoughts, baring his teeth at Francis. But before he could slap his wandering hand off, Francis leaned over to press his lips to Arthur's.

Arthur's body went rigid with shock. Francis continued to press his lips to Arthur's, tasting the metal of his snake bites, attempting to get a response from him. After another moment passed, he felt him grab the front of his sweater in his fists, his lips pressing back strongly.

A soft hum of amusement purred in the Frenchman's throat, his hand resting on Arthur's thigh sliding more inwards. Their lips argued messily – a bit _too _messily for Francis' taste – as the calloused hands gripping Francis' shirt loosened slightly.

Their lips overlapped each other energetically, Francis feeling his hands let go of his shirt and slid up to grip his hair instead, Francis biting the Brit's bottom lip in annoyance. That received a small grunt from Arthur, the hands in his hair pulling hard.

Francis growled before he palmed the front of Arthur's skinny jeans, noticing how Arthur was already slightly hard. That triggered Arthur to open his legs wider, a bit welcoming, as he continued to sloppily kiss Francis.

Instead of accepting the invitation, Francis slipped his hand up Arthur's stained and torn black tank top, his fingers roaming over his flat stomach hungrily. Pants repeated from Arthur as he pulled away from Francis' lips, his eyes staring into Francis' with a mesmerizing glint. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his hands tangled in the Frenchman's long locks.

Francis ran his hands up his stomach and chest, feeling the bumps of his ribcage. He frowned.

"Why are you starving yourself?", he asked in an unamused tone, running his fingertips over the indents of his ribs. That only received a light laugh from Arthur, "I'm not. Are you bloody complaining?"

Francis' frown deepened before he leaned over to lightly press his lips to Arthur's, only being discouraged by how harshly he pressed back. But he ignored it, pulling back to smile gently at the Brit as he slipped his hands down his stomach and out from underneath his shirt.

"Let me buy you dinner, _oui_?", Francis offered, only he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Arthur glared at him. "What's your problem? And what was with you fucking kissing me? I never said you could! Now get off me, you bastard!", Arthur growled at him before he grabbed Francis' shoulders and pushed him back.

Francis sat back with a heaved sigh. "Why must you be so difficult? For one, I don't have a 'problem'. And two, you kissed me back, _Sourcils_. Now, let me buy you dinner, please? I'll pay." Arthur bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes from Francis'.

Once he returned his eyes to Francis, he frowned slightly. "_Fine_. But this doesn't bloody mean anything, got that? Just because you buy me food doesn't mean we're together. At all. Nothing.", he snapped at him before he pushed off the couch, striding to one of the closets in the dressing room.

Francis watched with a unamused and slightly pleased expression as Arthur yanked out a pair of knee-length army boots and tugged them on before he turned to scowl at Francis.

"Are we bloody going or are you just going to sit there?", he asked as he walked up to him before he stood in front of the couch with a not-so-pleased expression. Francis only smiled up at him, "Well, where would you like to eat?"

"The diner that's right around the corner.", Arthur answered with a stubborn tone as he crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket straining loudly. Francis arched a brow, "Why not something more..satisfying?"

"Because _you're _treating _me_. I get to choose.", Arthur began, "Oh, and I don't own a car, so you're going to drive me."

Francis smiled. "Of course. I would have insisted anyways.", he stated as he pushed off the couch, standing in front of Arthur. The Brit sneered at him before he walked past him out the door, only for Francis to sigh and follow after him.

* * *

><p>The bell above the door of the diner rang as Arthur shoved the door, a little too hard, open. His boots exaggerated his footsteps as he strode to the booth that was in the corner, before he slid into the seat positioned against the wall.<p>

Francis watched him as he approached the booth a little more calmly, smiling to himself as he slid in the seat across from him.

"So..what do they serve here-", Francis began but was interrupted by a girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, place two menus on the table timidly. Arthur lifted his emerald eyes up to her, only to furrow his eyebrows and frown deeply.

Apparently, she noticed his expression, and flushed a deep pink. "I..Hello ..how are y-you?", she stuttered, Francis arching a brow.

"What did I tell you about the stutter? Stop stuttering, it's bloody hard for people to understand what you say!", Arthur snarled at her, the poor girl fidgeting nervously. "Ah..right..sorry..um..I'll come back to take your orders..then..", she mumbled before she turned and walked hurriedly away.

Francis sighed heavily, looking at Arthur with a displeased face. Arthur noticed, flaring his nostrils slightly, "What?"

"How could you be so cruel to her? Do you know her?", Francis asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Arthur reached up to scratch his cheek, "Well, yeah. I do know her. I invited her over to my apartment. And you know what I mean by that."

"Oh? And you just dumped her off like that? Nothing at all?", Francis asked as he crossed his arms, growing quite irritated. "It _was _a one-night stand. I don't bloody see the problem.", the Brit retorted in annoyance.

"But, you do not have to be so rude to her.", Francis replied with a light tone.

"I can be 'rude' to her if I want. And that one-night stand was two months ago. It's the past now.", Arthur mumbled as he flipped open one of the menus and lowered his eyes to it's contents.

Francis arched a brow, "Two months ago? So have you slept with anyone else since then?" The Brit lifted his annoyed eyes from the menu to Francis' aqua orbs, "No. Why does it matter?" A frown replaced Francis' sly smile, "Honestly? No one? Not even a man?"

"No. What's it to you..?"

"I'm..just curious. But why not? It's a good way to relax and enjoy yourself, non? So why avoid it when you can easily occupy one of your fans or meet some girl off the streets you can seduce with your...er..._charming_ self?", the Frenchman furrowed his eyebrows.

A soft sigh blew from Arthur, "That's the _point, _though. The fans. The random girls on the streets who happen to know me. Before, I have fucked fans multiple times, but they end up becoming too clingy or even became stalkers."

"That's true..but why not turn to someone who is close to you? Or maybe a friend? I'm sure they would _gladly _accept such an invitation from an attractive person like you."

Arthur glared at him before he frowned. "I don't have any friends.", Arthur dead panned, dropping his eyes back to the menu. Silence lingered, Francis biting softly on the inside of his cheek.

"Well..Arthur, I _am _your friend. Even if you deny it, I care for you.", Francis said strongly as he reached over to place his hand over Arthur's on the table. The Brit snapped his eyes up to the Frenchman, a irritated scowl spreading over his face, "No. You're not. I said, you're just buying me food. Nothing more or less."

Arthur yanked his hand away just as their timid waitress returned with quick footsteps. "So..are you ready to order..?", she asked quietly, Francis smiling at her brightly. She blushed at him before she glanced at Arthur. He was looking at her in annoyance again.

"Yes. I assume we are since Arthur isn't speaking up.", Francis eyed him angrily, Arthur glaring at him. "Yeah, whatever. Just fish and chips then.", the Brit snapped at her, the girl furrowing her eyebrows shyly before she scribbled down his order on the notepad in her small hands. She turned to Francis with a tiny smile on her lips, which Francis grinned at, "A-And you, sir..?"

"_Oui, _thank you, but I already ate before I came here. But it was nice meeting you, sweet girl.", he beamed, the girl's cheeks tinting a light shade of scarlet. "Alright..then um, your food will arrive soon..", she said as she looked at Arthur, the smile on her lips disappearing.

Only a grunt of understanding came from Arthur, the girl frowning before she turned and walked quickly away.

Strangely, Francis remained silent, his thoughts enveloped with Arthur. And it continued like that until Arthur's food arrived, the Brit staring at the table with a sour expression, his chin resting in his palm, his elbow resting on the table.

The plate filled with Arthur's food made a loud '_clink_' as she set it in front of Arthur, Francis watching with an amused smirk on his lips as Arthur jumped.

"Um..enjoy your food..", the timid waitress mumbled. "Yeah, thanks.", Arthur said, the girl pursing her lips before she turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Francis exhaled before he glanced at Arthur, who was angrily stabbing at his fish. "Why are you in a foul mood?", Francis asked, watching as he popped a fry into his mouth with a frown. Arthur raised his eyes to him, "What's it to you? And m'not."

"Yes. You are. And I'm just curious."

Arthur glared at him, "So what if I'm in a bloody bad mood? I always am." He scoffed before shoving another group of fries into his mouth. Francis watched with disapproval, discouraged at how messily he ate.

"And what are the reasons?", Francis crossed his arms, keeping his eyes on Arthur. "It's not your bloody business.", Arthur snapped, returning to his food, Francis knowing he wouldn't tell.

A minute of silence – except for Arthur's chewing and the clinking of his silverware – passed between them, Francis watching Arthur with slight interest, his thoughts drifting. But, his thoughts were wandering – once again – to Arthur, Francis' eyes fixed on the Brit.

* * *

><p>Once Arthur finished his meal – slightly satisfied – Francis paid for the bill and left a gracious tip for their waitress (Arthur not bothering to chip in), before he led Arthur out of the diner.<p>

"I hope you enjoyed your meal.", Francis smiled at him as they walked to his Convertible, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Arthur glanced at him with a frown, "Uh..yeah..it was fine, just like every other serving I've had of it. Thanks, I guess.."

Francis stopped in his footsteps, his eyebrows raised at Arthur's words. It took a moment for Arthur to realize he stopped, the Brit slowing before looking back at him, "What?"

"_You_? Thankful? That's new.", the Frenchman grinned as he began to walk again, catching up to him. Arthur sneered, "Shut up, wanker." From the corner of his eye, Francis saw the smallest of blush tinting his pale cheeks.

He smiled as he walked around the car, retrieving his keys before he slid one into the lock of his door, unlocking it before pulling it open. He hit the unlock button on his door, the other doors of the car unlocking as well.

Arthur yanked the passenger's door open before he fell down onto the leather seat with a heaved groan, the studs of his leather jacket digging into the seat. Of course, Francis noticed, "Ah, could you watch your jacket? I don't want you to leave dents." The Brit rolled his eyes, but continued to lean against the seat, ignoring Francis' request.

Francis sighed before he slipped down into his seat, clicking the door shut behind him before he slid the keys into the ignition before he twisted it, the engine purring to life. He dropped his hand into his lap, staring at the steering wheel. After a moment he looked over at Arthur, "To your..house then?" The Brit only nodded.

"Er..yeah. It's just around the corner, over there.", Arthur pointed past Francis, the Frenchman following his finger before looking back at him. "_Oui. _Just tell me when we get there, I suppose..", he murmured before he placed his hand on the top of the steering wheel. He backed out of the parking spot, away from the diner's exterior.

Once they turned out of the parking lot, Francis drove towards the direction Arthur pointed towards, his free hand raised to his lips, his fingers tapping his upper lip as he guided the vehicle with his other hand.

It only took Francis four minutes to make it to Arthur's destination; it _was _just around the corner. Once he turned his Convertible off in the parking lot of what appeared to be an apartment building, he pulled his keys out of the ignition. He looked up at the exterior of the building, curious to why Arthur didn't choose a slightly more appropriate and not so..low quality choice of living. He dropped his eyes to Arthur.

Arthur was staring at him, "Why'd you turn off the car? I know how to walk up stairs." Francis smiled lightly, "I'm only walking you to your door. It's only polite for me to do so." A groan came from the Brit, "Don't start this bullshit with me. I can easily just make it to my apartment without your company."

He scowled at Francis before shoving his door open and stepping out, not bothering to shut it behind him as he walked up to the stairs that led to the second floor. Francis sighed before he pushed his door open as well, clicking it shut before he walked around the car and closed Arthur's door.

After he ran a hand through his long locks, he approached the stairs quietly, looking up to see Arthur walking down the balcony. But, the Brit did notice him following, Francis seeing him frown in annoyance.

A grin spread over the Frenchman's lips as he made it up the stairs before he turned to follow Arthur down the balcony, his footsteps repeating. He noticed that Arthur stopped in front of a door – which was labeled 129 – before he slid his hand into his skinny jean's pocket, retrieving what looked like was a key.

Francis approached him and the door with a light grin, watching as Arthur twisted the key and shoved the door open, obviously ignoring him. Nonetheless, he left the door open for Francis to shut behind them, the Brit pacing into the filthy apartment.

With a look of slight disgust, Francis glanced around the apartment as he closed the door shut quietly, scanning his eyes over the piles of dirty clothes and the stacks of CD's and records. Not to mention there was plenty of garbage scattered about (mostly empty beer bottles and cigarette buds). He spotted a scratched up _Fender – _colored red with a few unpleasant stickers – resting against a stained wall.

"Do you ever attempt to not live like a pig?", Francis broke the silence, stepping over a pile of clothes as he approached the guitar. Except, Arthur didn't retort, Francis listening as he heard him sigh. Francis ignored his silence as he stared at Arthur's guitar, knowing he might throw a fit if he touched it.

The sound of Arthur's feet padded against the thick carpet as he walked to the small excuse of a bathroom, the door creaking open as Francis continued to stare tediously at the guitar. Once the door shut, he glanced up, his eyes wandering to the wall above Arthur's not-so-comfortable-looking bed.

It had pages of magazines tacked messily to it, as well as photographs and some small posters. He walked to the side of the bed, leaning over it slightly to get a better look at the photographs.

One of them was of a girl, who looked to be in her late thirties, that had long brunette hair and a gorgeous smile. He looked at one beside it. It was of Arthur and the same girl in the previous photograph, and a bright grin was on Arthur's lips, that Francis smiled at.

Who is she? His girlfriend? It doesn't seem like Arthur would have a girlfriend; his apartment is a mess, _he _is a mess, and he's stuck up and rude. But, he _is_ attractive. Maybe she has low standards?

"What do you think you're doing?"

Francis turned around to see Arthur standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unamused. His hair was slightly wet now, his face not as dirty. Did he wash his face? Francis lowered his eyes to Arthur's rings that were on his fingers, his fingers resting on his biceps from his crossed arms.

"Well?", the Brit asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Francis. Francis lifted his eyes to Arthur.

"I am simply.._admiring _your lovely photographs.", Francis spoke, motioning towards the wall with his eyes. An annoyed sigh blew from Arthur, the Brit dropping his arms. "Well, I'd bloody appreciate it if you didn't snoop around my apartment, yeah?", Arthur growled, his eyes slitting at the Frenchman.

Francis only smiled smugly at him before the smile dropped a moment later, his eyes returning to the wall. He raised his hand to point at the girl, "Who is she?" He turned back to look at Arthur, noticing how he went rigid. Francis arched a brow.

"She's..my mother.", Arthur answered, lowering his crossed arms to his sides. _'Oh..of course.'_, Francis thought as he eyed him, knowing that look almost too well.

"What happened to her..?", he asked, seeing how Arthur's lips curved downwards. "She passed away, when I was only a kid. I still remember her though.", he answered, but then noticed Francis' pitying expression.

He scowled at him, "It was years ago. It doesn't matter." Francis knew better, the Frenchman rolling his eyes slightly. Arthur noticed it, the Brit glowering at him.

"What are you even bloody doing here?", Arthur snapped at him. Francis grinned, but then turned to walk around the bed, before he sat down on the end.

"I thought maybe I could spend the night? I'll just make myself comfortable, _oui_?", he sang to annoy Arthur, leaning back to lay on the bed, his arms folded underneath his head, the Frenchman closing his eyes.

He could feel a spring from the bare mattress dig into the middle of his back, the teasing grin on his lips faltering to a frown. How could Arthur even _sleep _on this thing?

He opened his eyes to complain, but he noticed that Arthur was standing at the end of the bed, in front of Francis' laying figure. Arthur was looking down at him with his piercing eyes, a frown on his lips. Then, he took his red leather jacket off, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed.

Francis arched a brow and tried to sit up, but before he could, Arthur placed a knee on the edge of the bed between Francis' legs, Arthur crawling over Francis, his hands placed on each side of Francis' head.

Francis looked up at him in confusion, too shocked to move.

Arthur leaned down to brush his lips over the Frenchman's, his emerald eyes fixed on Francis'. Francis could see the lust in his eyes.

"What..are you doing, _Sourcils_?", Francis asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he moved his hands to grip Arthur's wrists that were on each side of his head. Arthur stared down at him with a blank face – except for his lust-filled eyes – before he leaned down to roughly press his lips to Francis'.

Francis stared at his closed eyelids before he began to respond, his hands gripping Arthur's wrists moving to caress his cheeks, his eyes sliding close as well. He moved his lips against Arthur's strongly, feeling the hands by his head move to grip his hair.

Their lips argued, Francis feeling the lips on his press harder, as if to get a better response. Francis did just that; reaching up to slide his hands into Arthur's slightly damp hair and press his lips up against his with more vigor.

In response, Arthur pulled back to inhale sharply before returning his lips – a bit roughly – to Francis'. Their lips overlapped each other strongly, Francis feeling himself grow slightly hard. He felt Arthur push his tongue past Francis' lips, Francis furrowing his eyebrows as the Brit ran his tongue over Francis' hungrily.

Francis heard a low chuckle as Arthur slid his tongue over his teeth and tongue, Francis crinkling his nose. He began to roll his tongue with Arthur's, his hands in Arthur's short hair sliding down his back and waist to grope his ass, Francis grinning against his lips.

A growl came from Arthur before he pulled back to scowl at Francis. The smile on Francis' lips spread out into a grin, the Frenchman squeezing his backside again, the scowl on Arthur's face forming into a glower.

"You want to play that game? Fine with me.", Arthur snarled before he dipped his head low to bite at Francis' neck as he snaked his hand down Francis' sweater to his jeans, slipping his hand past the waistband.

Francis bit his bottom lip as he felt him massage his slightly hard cock with his skilled fingers through the fabric of his underwear, the lips on his neck biting softly.

Before it could go any further, Francis turned them over, Arthur glaring up at him. "I wasn't done.", Arthur hissed, but was silenced by Francis' lips pressing to his own.

Instead of resisting, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck, sliding his fingers into his long locks as he kissed back sloppily. Francis' blonde hair curtained their faces as they kissed, Francis sliding his hands down Arthur's chest until he reached the hem of his black tank top.

He snaked his hands up his shirt, his fingers roaming over his skin, Francis feeling him twitch underneath his touch. Francis smiled against his lips before he pulled his tank top up, their lips separating for only a second as he pulled his shirt over Arthur's head before tossing it onto the floor, adding to the pile of clothes already sitting beside the bed.

Arthur panted heavily before Francis smashed their lips together once more, tangling his fingers in Francis' hair. Francis returned his fingers to Arthur's skin, feeling each curve and bump as he moved them downwards. Before he reached the button of Arthur's skinny jeans, Arthur pulled away to pant lightly.

"This is merely sex. Nothing more or else. Got that, frog?", Arthur hissed, his eyes slitting at Francis. Francis smiled down at him, "Understood, my dear."

"I'm not your 'dear', bastard.", Arthur growled before he hastily hooked his fingers around the hem of Francis' sweater and slid it over his head. Francis' long hair fell back down past his broad shoulders to shield their faces once more, the Frenchman smirking down at him.

Teasingly, Francis leaned down to brush his lips over Arthur's, the Brit only reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck and force him down, their lips locking together like a puzzle piece; as if they fit perfectly together.

Instantly, they began to kiss strongly. Francis slid his hand down his abdomen, feeling the short bristle hairs that neared right above where he was aiming for. He traveled lower to unhook the button of Arthur's skinny jeans, before he worked on the zipper.

Once he slid his jeans down to his knees, their lips arguing all the while, Arthur kicked it off onto the messy floor. Francis pulled his lips away from Arthur's to dip down and kiss at his neck instead.

"I'm curious; how exactly did we get into this situation? Not that I mind at all.", he murmured against his skin, feeling Arthur fumble with his own jean's button.

"Because it feels good. Is that good enough for you, prick?", he received in response, Francis chuckling before he began to suck on the skin of his neck, biting softly until a bruise-like color appeared.

Arthur eventually was able to unbutton and unzip Francis' jeans, Francis only standing at the end of the bed for a few seconds to push it past his knees. Once he stepped over them to rejoin Arthur on the uncomfortable bed, he returned his lips to the Brit's strongly.

Arthur could feel his own arousal pressing up against the fabric of his underwear, Francis noticing before he reached down to palm it gingerly, which received a soft groan from Arthur.

"T-Take it off already, moron.", Arthur grunted. Francis only hummed in response as he hooked his fingers between Arthur's skin and the waistband of his underwear before he slid it down past his knee. But once he glanced back, he paused. Francis arched a brow. "Honestly? A penis piercing?", he asked in a monotone voice.

"What? I like it..", Arthur grumbled. Francis laughed, "Sometimes, I wonder why you do the things you do."

"Are we gonna fuck or what?", Arthur snapped at him, baring his teeth. Francis chuckled, "Of course we are. Now why would I back down on an offer like that with an attractive person like you?"

Arthur glared at him.

Without another second passing, the Brit leaned up to press their lips together again, hooking a hand on the back of Francis' head. Francis kissed back as he ran his fingertips down Arthur's abdomen before he began to stroke Arthur's arousal softly. Arthur lightly clenched a fistful of Francis' hair.

Francis rubbed his thumb on the head of his erection, spreading the precum around. Arthur raised his knees slightly as Francis curled his fingers around the base before he began to run them up and down teasingly slow. The Frenchman smiled down at Arthur's concentrated expression (probably from trying to hold back any sounds that threatened to escape his lips) before he leaned down to kiss his collarbone and shoulder.

He only continued to stroke it slowly until Arthur barked at him to go faster. He then started to pump at a faster pace as he nipped at Arthur's collarbone.

Arthur, not wanting to leave Francis untouched, moved his hand to massage his arousal through his underwear.

Francis grinned against the skin of Arthur's neck once he felt him attempt to 'pleasure' him as well. He moved his hand at a quicker pace, occasionally brushing his thumb over the head. A soft moan slipped from Arthur.

The strokes became stronger, Francis feeling himself becoming more turned on due to Arthur's spaced out groans and short pants, and the occasion strain of his muscles.

Arthur gave up on trying to touch Francis, instead he pulled Francis' underwear down. Francis smiled lightly before he slipped them off his ankles, joining the rest of their clothes on the floor. Now both of them bare of clothes, Arthur panting slightly as Francis continued to stroke his arousal.

Their skin began to dampen, Francis watching Arthur's face as he moved his fingers. But, soon he pulled his hand away. "Do you happen to have a condom and lubricant?", he asked.

Arthur panted lightly, "The drawer." Francis glanced at the night stand positioned beside the mattress. He leaned over to pull it open and reach in to grab the lubricant and a strip of condoms. He broke a condom off before returning the others to the drawer.

Once he opened the lube and spread a bit over his fingers, he hooked his other hand under Arthur's knee and spread his legs apart. Arthur bit on his bottom lip, gnawing on one of his snake bites.

Francis pressed a fingertip against his entrance, before he pushed a finger past the ring of tight muscles. Arthur clenched a calloused hand at the feeling of something pressing into him, his pierced eyebrows furrowing. Francis began to slide it in and out, curling it occasionally before shortly a second finger was added.

A noise sounded in the back of Arthur's throat as Francis pressed his fingers in all the way before he pulled them back out. He began curling them before he spread them apart, stretching it out as much as possible before thrusting his fingers back in.

Arthur's breath stuttered, "Th..That's enough! Just put the bloody condom on. I don't want to wait anymore!" Francis grinned before he pulled his fingers out. Once he ripped open the condom and put it over his arousal, he spread the lubricant on his fingers around the condom.

He looked up at Arthur, seeing him pant lightly, his eyes fixed on him. Francis leaned over to softly kiss him, before he grabbed the Brit's thigh lightly. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows once he felt the head of his cock prod against his entrance. He grit his teeth once Francis pushed in partially, but it wasn't that painful. It just stung.

He noticed Francis' pause, letting him adjust to the stretch, the Brit reaching up to grip his shoulders. "Move already, you twat!", he hissed, staring up into Francis' aqua eyes crossly.

Francis did as he was told with a small smile, pushing up against him, filling him completely with his cock. Arthur gasped at the feeling off Francis' arousal being inside him, the hand gripping Francis' shoulder clenching.

Francis furrowed his brow, the wet muscles feeling amazing around his arousal. But it would feel more pleasurable if the condom wasn't on. Not to mention, Arthur was really tight.

Instantly, Francis began to move his hips, reaching down to place his hands on the mattress for balance. Arthur let out a weak groan, the Brit biting down on his bottom lip to hold it back.

The springs of the mattress, despite that they were only moving rhythmically, started to creak below them as they rocked together.

"You", Francis let out a small grunt, "need to replace this excuse for a bed, Arthur." Arthur only let out a small, short laugh before he groaned once Francis thrust his hips down into him.

"I'm..not planning on replacing it anytime soon..", Arthur retorted breathlessly as Francis connected their hips again, feeling his cock push back into him. Francis remained silent as he began to move his hips at a faster pace, moving his hands to caress Arthur's damp skin.

"Ah..", Arthur groaned once Francis began to roughly thrust back into him, trying to push in deeper. Arthur felt Francis move his hands over his skin, pressing softly with his fingertips as if to sooth him. Not wanting the feeling, Arthur grabbed his hands off his abdomen and placed them on his hips.

Francis gripped his hips in response before he began to move his own back and forth at a faster rhythm, receiving a low moan from Arthur.

"Y-You know...", Arthur began between small gasps, "this is..a real _treat_..for you. I never bottom. I just haven't had..a good fuck in a while..._" _He let out a moan once Francis pressed in all the way, his eyebrows twitching.

"Mmm.._d'accord_..", Francis agreed in slight sarcasm, tightening his hands on Arthur's hips.

"Fuck you, at least I even let you in my bloody apart-_aaah_-ment..!", the Brit arched his back once he felt Francis hit his prostate, a wave of ecstasy flowing through his abdomen.

Arthur reached up to wrap his arms around Francis' neck. The bed continued to creak beneath them as Francis connected their hips repeatedly, their skin meeting with short slaps each time.

Arthur clawed his nails into Francis' back, dragging lightly. But not hard enough to break skin, just to leave light trails of red. He sucked in a breath once he felt Francis bite on his shoulder before running his tongue over the skin.

"F-Fuck...", Arthur hissed through clenched teeth as Francis continued to press into him. He let out a short gasp once he felt the Frenchman rub against the bundle of nerves inside him once more.

Francis felt Arthur clench his muscles around his cock lightly, the Frenchman tightening his hands on Arthur's hips. Arthur arched his back, digging his nails into Francis' back as he let out a moan.

Their damp skin continued to brush together each time Francis rocked his hips into Arthur, the bed protesting each time their bodies moved.

Arthur felt his erection twitch, needing to be touched. He tightened his arms around Francis' neck, his eyebrows furrowing.

And as if Francis knew his needs, the Frenchman let go of Arthur's hip to wrap his fingers around the shaft of Arthur's cock before he began to stroke it roughly, causing Arthur to let out a low moan and arch his back, their stomachs touching.

"Y-You idiot..I'm going to..", Arthur trailed off as he felt ecstasy run through his abdomen, feeling Francis rub against his prostate. Francis leaned down to kiss him on the forehead as he continued to stroke his erection.

Arthur's face twisted into a scowl at the affectionate kiss. But it disappeared once a low moan slipped from his lips. He grit his teeth and clenched around Francis' erection before he came onto his chest and stomach as well as Francis' hand.

He panted as Francis continued to thrust into him repeatedly, Arthur dropping his arms from around his neck. The hands on his hips tightened as the thrusts became more erratic and uneven, Arthur biting on his bottom lip. He heard Francis' let a groan out before he came, filling the condom. Pants filled the room as they remained still, the feeling after orgasm continuing to run through them.

Once Arthur's heartbeat stabilized, he pushed away from Francis immediately to reach down to snatch a towel that was lying beside the bed.

He wiped the cum off his stomach and chest before tossing it to Francis. He then stood, feeling slight stinging, before he walked to the bathroom to start a shower, not even glancing back at Francis.

Francis watched as Arthur crossed the dirty room to enter the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind him. The Frenchman remained silent as he stood to slide the condom off before tying it, glancing around for a trashcan to throw it in.

He spotted one in the corner; that was piled with garbage. He rolled his eyes at the filth. How could Arthur live like this? Once he (somehow) fit the condom into the trashcan, he grabbed the towel and wiped his hands off before tossing it back onto the bare mattress. Then he heard the start of the shower, and the shuffling of the shower curtain.

Francis turned to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the barely visible floor. He thought about what to do with the situation, seeing as it happened out of nowhere. What was Arthur thinking? Why did _he _make the first move and not himself?

Then Francis glanced around the room, looking at the piles of garbage and clothes. He scowled in disgust. He'd have to clean it all soon, whether Arthur liked it or not.

His eyes drifted to the nightstand beside the bed, noticing two keys sitting on the top. Both of them had the number of the apartment carved on them. Where they keys to the apartment? He raised his eyes to the door of the bathroom, hearing the distant hum of the water. He grabbed one of the keys before he stood and grabbed his underwear.

Once he yanked his jeans up, he pulled his sweater over his head before flattening his hair out with his hands. He was about to open the apartment's door but stopped in his footsteps once an idea popped in his head.

Just then, the shower shut off, only drips of water repeating. Francis turned before he glanced around the room for a piece of paper and any writing utensil. And as if there was anything Arthur had in his apartment at the right time, it was the sticky notes and pen that were resting on the nightstand.

Once Francis strode to it and quickly scribbled down his number and a small message, he turned to walk to the door before yanking it open, quietly, and pacing past the doorframe.

Arthur heard footsteps and shuffling of clothes past the door of the bathroom as he stepped out of the shower, water dripping off his short hair and running down his limbs. He exhaled before he snatched a clean towel off the towel rack.

Once he wrapped it around his waist, he walked to the door before pulling it open and stepping into the bedroom.

He frowned in displeasure, not that he noticed himself, once he realized that it was empty save for himself. He sighed again before pacing out into the bedroom, past all the piles of clothes to the bed. He sat down with a groan, both from pain from his backside and exhaustion, before he rested his forearms on his knees.

It was silent, except for his soft breathing, as he stared at the floor, his hands hanging limply. He scowled at nothing before he glanced back at the bed, noticing the towel they had used to clean off.

He reached over to grab it before tossing it over the side. Once he pulled a pillow off the ground, he placed it on the end of the bed before laying down with a heaved sigh.

A moment passed before he realized the light was still on. With an annoyed grunt he pushed off the bed. Before he walked to the light switch to turn it off, he noticed the notepad on his nightstand from the corner of his eye, seeing new writing on it.

He lifted it off, raising it to his stomach's height. He glared at it once he read the number (that obviously belonged to Francis) and the small message below it.

_'That was rather..surprising. Coming from you. But, do not miss me too much, I don't want you to get lonely, my love. If you do, do not refrain from calling me.'_

And below the message was a drawn heart.

"Moron..", Arthur breathed in annoyance, crumbling the note up before tossing it over his shoulder heartlessly.

Once he turned off the light hastily and returned to the edge his bed, with only a towel around his waist, he fell down onto the mattress with a heaved exhale before shutting his eyes. He buried his face into the pillow, sliding his ringed hands beneath it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two days later**

Droplets of rain fell down onto Arthur's already soaked head, the liquid sliding off his locks down onto his shoulders.

Of course it had to rain. Of course it had to rain _right _after practice ended. So, _of course_, Arthur had to walk back to the apartment during a downpour.

His boots splashed through forming puddles as he strode, angrily, down the sidewalk, glaring at any passing cars that had the luxury to show off their warm coverage. His hands were balled by his sides, his rings pressing into his skin. His lips were curled back into a sour sneer, his eyes glaring at anything that moved (besides himself).

After ten minutes of haste walking through the downpour of rain, he spotted the apartment come into view. Instantly, he started to jog towards it, seeking warmth and a hot shower.

Once he made it to the stairs that led to the balcony, he ran up them, his boots slapping against the smooth concrete. Now that the roof of the balcony provided more comfort, Arthur slowed to a fast walk.

He approached his apartment's door, pulling out the single key, but went frozen once he heard the distant buzzing of what sounded like a vacuum cleaner. He growled in annoyance as he hastily pushed the key into the lock before twisting it. Once he shoved the door open, he stood in the doorway with shock.

Francis was pushing a vacuum over the _clean _carpet of the apartment, the obnoxious hum of the machine distracting Francis from noticing Arthur's entrance until he felt a cold draft brush against his arms. He raised his aqua eyes to Arthur's form standing in the door way, a grin spreading over the Frenchman's lips.

"Arthur! Hello! Welcome back, I just thought I could help you with some cleaning.", he greeted loudly over the vacuum. His hair was tied back into a low ponytail, the sleeves to his black turtleneck rolled back to his elbows, revealing his arm hair.

Arthur continued to stare in shock, the now completely spotless apartment hard to take in. And that somehow Francis was able to break into his apartment.

Before he spoke a single word, he strode across the room to the outlet the vacuum was plugged into, reaching down to rip the cord out angrily, the vacuum's noise ceasing as well as Francis' movement.

"Get out. _Right now!_", Arthur screamed at him, baring his teeth and pointing towards the door. Francis only stood there with a confused expression, "I merely did a favor for you, Arthur. Why are you so cold?"

"_Get. Out._", Arthur repeated through clenched teeth, continuing to point towards the open door. Francis crossed his arms, "Why should I? It took me four hours to clean all your laundry, fold them, as well as throw away all the garbage and wash the walls and floor. The least you can do is thank me."

"Fuck you!", Arthur yelled at him, "I didn't _ask _for you to! Now _get out_!" Francis frowned, "Is that really what you want? After all the time I spent cleaning your apartment?"

"_Yes!_", Arthur continued to yell at him, his face flushing with anger, his face twisted into a glare. Francis crossed his arms, "Why are you in a foul mood? Well, fouler than normal." Arthur only stared at him with an irritated expression before he crossed the room to him.

He grabbed a fistful of his sweater before he pulled him close to his face, his heavy breaths (from shouting) brushing against Francis' face.

"_Fuck you._", he hissed lowly through his teeth, his intimidating eyes boring into Francis'. He waited for his response.

"Gladly.", Francis stated with a smirk before he leaned forward to close the space between their faces to press his lips to Arthur's, his hand running up the Brit's back to the back of his head, holding it in place. Arthur only growled before he bit Francis' bottom lip harshly, breaking the skin. He tasted blood.

Francis pulled back and touched his cut lip gingerly, "What was that for?" Instead of answering, Arthur grabbed Francis by the shirt again and pulled him towards the door.

"Bye Francis. And don't come back.", he snarled before he shoved him out past the door way, Francis stumbling over his feet and running into the balcony's fence, the rain pattering against the balcony's roof. Before Francis could turn back, Arthur slammed the door shut and locked it.

Once he turned from the door, he heaved a sigh before walking to his bed. He glanced around, noticing that his clothes were sitting, folded and hung, in his small closet, and that the floor and walls were washed.

But what pissed him off the most was that Francis broke into his apartment, and how he put sheets and blankets as well as pillows on his bed. In fact, he _replaced _his old beat-up one with a long twin bed. Fuck.

He stared at the bed in annoyance as he ran his tongue over his snake bites, his eyebrows furrowing deeply. Then he glanced at the nightstand. The note from before was resting on the top, no longer crumpled up. He glared at it.

But before he dealt with throwing it out the window, he furiously ran his hands through his short hair, messing it up further. Then he yanked his red leather jacket off, revealing his black, long sleeved t-shirt.

Instead of throwing it on the ground like he usually did, without him noticing, he placed his jacket on the armchair that Francis most likely placed on the opposite wall to his bed.

He spun his rings around on his fingers before he bent over to unstrap his boots and yank them off, throwing them at the wall. They dropped onto the floor beside his new bed.

Arthur paused once he heard a noise by his door which sounded like a key sliding into a lock. And it was just that; the click of the lock unlocking before the door pushed open to reveal who else than Francis.

Arthur twirled around to see Francis leaning against the door frame, a key between his fore and middle fingers. A grin was on his lips (dried blood on his bottom lip), his eyes fixed on Arthur's.

"You..!", Arthur began.

"_Oui_. Me. I hope you haven't missed me~?", Francis sang as he pushed off the door frame to shut the door behind him with a click. Arthur was staring at the key in his hand with shocked eyes. But his face formed into a glower once he realized what it was.

"You _bastard! _You bloody _stole _that! When? When I was in the fucking shower? Is that how you got in to _destroy _my apartment?", Arthur furiously shouted at him as he strode up to him before he shoved him. Francis bumped back into the door, a grin still on his lips.

"I do not believe I stole it, _amour_. I thought I could use it to get in so I can clean your apartment. And _non_, I did not destroy it. It's better, _oui_? I was curious to how you could live in such a pig sty this long of a period."

"That's considered stealing, _you fucking dolt!_", Arthur yelled at him, growing more livid by each word that came out of Francis' mouth. His chest was heaving up and down from his heavy pants, his hands balled into tight fists, his nails digging into his palm.

Francis' grin dropped into a concerned frown, "Calm down, Arthur. No need to burst a vein in your pretty head." He reached up to gently touch Arthur's temple, a small smile on his lips.

Arthur felt like he was going to _explode _if he didn't strangle him right now. Instead of doing just that, he started to breathe in and out in long drags, trying not to grow even more angry from the fingers touching his skin.

Once he unclenched his hands and relaxed his furrowed eyebrows, he grabbed Francis' hand, a bit roughly, before throwing it down.

"What do you want?", Arthur asked calmly, trying not to snap and beat Francis up. Francis smiled at the question.

He stepped closer to Arthur, so their bodies were almost touching. He leaned over to brush his lips over Arthur's.

If Arthur were to snap, it would be right there, but he remained composed. He fought against his will to punch him across the face, so instead he stared at him. His hands started to tremble slightly at his resistance at punching him.

"I thought since I spent a good four hours scrubbing your apartment spotless, and since you are soaking wet and muddy, we could, perhaps, take a shower together..?", Francis asked as he pulled back to look in Arthur's eyes.

Arthur glared at him. The urge to punch him doubled. "Why should I?", he hissed through his clenched teeth.

"Because, obviously, you are tense. And you are cold and wet from the horrid rain. Now, why not relax and take a nice, soothing shower with me?"

"Because it's _not _relaxing or soothing at all with you_ right there!_", Arthur snapped at him. Francis wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist, before pulling him closer to himself.

"Please?", Francis asked, pouting teasingly. Arthur saw right through it. "No.", he growled flatly, before he pushed away from Francis.

"But Arthur, I just cleaned your apartment for you! _Please_, just this once?", Francis begged. Arthur turned to the bathroom, "Nope. But I guess I can't kick you out since you have the bloody key. So just stay in here while I take a shower, moron."

Francis watched as Arthur walked to the bathroom's door. Francis bit on the inside of his cheek before he turned to pace to the armchair. He reached down to lift Arthur's jacket off before he sat down. He placed his jacket on his lap.

Once he heard the run of the shower, an idea ran through his head. He grinned before standing up once more.

Arthur took his clothes off before he stepped into the spray of hot water, a soft sigh of comfort escaping him. He raised his sore arms (sore from playing the guitar for three hours straight) to run his hands through his hair.

All thoughts of violence washed away with the water, Arthur closing his eyes at the feeling of warm water traveling down his shoulder blades and down his legs. But the feeling of comfort and relaxation left him once he heard the door open.

He cursed in his head as he snapped his eyes open. He reached out to shove the shower curtain back, noticing the door shut and no one in the room.

Well, until he felt hands slid over his backside. He turned around to see Francis standing, naked, behind him with a wide grin on his lips. His hair was still dry but progressively grew wet as the water soaked into it.

Arthur groaned. So much for relaxation. He sighed, exhausted from being angry much more often than he needed to.

"Can you get out?", he asked simply, not really in the mood to get pissed. Francis only grinned wider.

"_Non_.", Francis answered before he wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, pulling their bodies together. Arthur growled at their skin connecting, the Brit grabbing Francis' biceps before he dug his nails into Francis' skin.

"Let go.", he growled, not liking any of this. Francis ignored him, the Frenchman pressing his lips to Arthur's.

Before Arthur could pull back, Francis placed his hand on the back of Arthur's head to hold him there, like before, as he continued to move his lips against Arthur's.

Arthur reached around to grab fistfuls of Francis' hear, and began to _pull_, trying to yank him off. Francis ignored the pain, continuing to attempt to get a positive response from Arthur.

Once Arthur was able to pull his lips away he began to claw at Francis' arms, "Let me go you piece of shit! Stop trying to fucking-" He was cut off by Francis' lips roughly returning to his.

Arthur gave up, already exhausted at trying to kick him off and pull at his hair. He began to kiss back, clenching his eyes shut. Their lips overlapped each other, Francis running his hands over Arthur's back.

They continued to kiss strongly as the warm water ran down their skin, Arthur becoming slightly turned-on. His eyebrow twitched once he felt Francis curl his fingers around the base of his cock.

He began to stroke it softly between their bodies as Arthur tightened his hands in Francis' hair. Once Arthur grew hard, he pulled back to pant lightly.

"Not here. Let's go to the bedroom. But, I want to finish my damn shower. Can you get out? I want to relax. I don't want to be tense when I have to deal with you.", he said as he slid his hands out of Francis' long locks.

Francis only nodded before he let him go and stepped out of the shower, leaving Arthur in the spray of hot water. Arthur heaved a sigh of relief at Francis' acceptance. He turned to face the shower head and look up into it, the water running down his face and dripping off his eyelashes.

He relaxed his shoulders and unclenched his hands, letting the water soothe his muscles. He stood there for a few minutes until the water began to cool down. He opened his eyes to turn the heat up.

Then he considered washing his hair; which he never did. He thought about the decision for a little bit before deciding it was the best to clean it since it's hasn't been in over a month. He turned to snatch the rarely touched bottle off the built-in shelf before opening the cap.

Once he spread the shampoo in his hair, the water began to wash the soap suds down his limbs as he rubbed the shampoo into his scalp and short locks. A bit of the soap got in his eyes, the Brit mumbling a 'fuck' before he began to rub his eyes angrily.

After rinsing it all out, he stood under the water for a little longer before deciding it was about time to get out. The knob squeaked as he turned it, the water no longer falling from the shower head. The shower curtain rustled as he shoved it out of the way, drops of water falling off his hair and sliding down his legs to pool on the tile as he stepped out.

He wrapped a towel around his waist before pulling the bathroom door open. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, then nibbled on one of his snake bites. Once he stepped out of the bathroom, he noticed Francis was sitting on the bed, the lights off, a little bit of sunlight coming through the single window for vision.

Arthur raised a hand to run it through his hair as he walked to where Francis was sitting. He noticed that Francis wasn't paying attention, so he grabbed the towel around his waist and pulled it off to toss it onto the floor.

Then he sat down on Francis' lap, his legs on both sides of him. He raised his hand to place it under Francis' chin, lifting his head. Arthur leaned over and pressed his lips to Francis', moving them against the Frenchman's strongly. After a moment, he noticed that Francis wasn't responding. Arthur pulled back to stare at him.

"Are we doing this or what? What's the matter with you?", Arthur demanded, his hand still holding Francis' chin up. Francis blinked, his aqua eyes staring into Arthur's. Arthur felt him slide his hands over his bare thighs and around his waist.

"Hey Arthur, are you lonely? Please don't lie to me.", Francis spoke, his tone different than usual. Arthur arched a pierced brow. Before he opened his mouth to throw some snide comment, he noticed the serious tone in his voice.

Arthur dropped his hand from beneath Francis' chin, his eyes looking away from Francis'. It took a second for him to open his mouth, but then he closed it again. He returned his eyes to Francis'.

"Uh..I'm not..lonely, really.", he said. He noticed the frown that formed on Francis' lips. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. The hands around his waist slid to rest on his thighs.

He watched as Francis connected their lips once more, his eyes sliding closed. Arthur began to kiss back eagerly, his eyes closing as well.

But the kiss didn't last long. Francis pulled back to look into Arthur's eyes again. Arthur stared as Francis raised a hand from Arthur's thigh. He ran his thumb over Arthur's bottom lip, brushing it over his snake bites.

"I want to feel what it's like to kiss you without these.", he murmured before he returned his lips to Arthur's strongly. Arthur raised his arms to wrap them around Francis' neck. Their lips moved together as Francis ran his hand down Arthur's chest and stomach.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in discomfort at Francis' touches but ignored it as he pressed his lips roughly against the other's, his hands wandering into Francis' hair. He felt Francis slide his hands back up to hold his cheeks in his hands.

Arthur grew tired of the pointless kissing so he pushed Francis back onto the bed and began to rock his hips against Francis', their erections brushing together. Arthur let out a strained groan at the feeling, and continued to grind against Francis, only rougher to maintain more contact.

Francis reached up to grab Arthur by the hips, only for Arthur to swat them away. Francis furrowed his eyebrows as Arthur resumed to rubbing their cocks together. Francis watched as Arthur placed his hands on the bed to gain balance.

"Why are you rushing things?", Francis asked before letting out a groan, "Why can't we just enjoy each other's touches and warmth?"

"Because I don't want that shit. I told you I'm only doing this for the bloody sex, you idiot.", Arthur snapped as he continued to rock his hips. Francis frowned, trying to ignore the pleasure (which was something he never did), "Why not? It's comforting and pleasant."

"Not for me! This", Arthur let out a grunt, "is only sex. How many times do I have to repeat myself? We aren't in any relationship whatsoever besides fucking. Is that so hard to understand?"

Francis scowled up at him before he grabbed his hips and turned them over, so he was on top. "Why are you like this? Why is touching such a bad thing?"

"Because I don't like you! I don't like _touching _you, so I try not to as much as I bloody can! Are we fucking doing this or not?", Arthur snapped up at him, glaring at him with bared teeth. Francis frowned, displeased.

He then reached up to grab a fistful of Arthur's hair, causing the Brit to cringe. "Fine.", he began, "You do realize I could leave whenever I want, and then you would be alone again. I am your friend, with benefits perhaps, but nonetheless your friend. And unless you stop with this bratty attitude, _Sourcils_, I won't be anymore."

Arthur's glare lowered into a frown. Strangely, he wasn't fuming, like he should be, but instead was confused.

"Whatever. Can we just do this now?", he asked. Francis let go of his hair before he leaned down to kiss Arthur strongly on the lips before pulling back, "_Oui._"

Instantly, Arthur felt him run his hand down to curl his fingers around the shaft of his arousal before he began to stroke it strongly, Arthur closing his eyes as he bit his bottom lip. Francis began to kiss him on the neck and collarbone, biting softly and sucking the skin.

Arthur let out a stuttered pant once he felt Francis flick his thumb against his penis piercing before he rubbed the head with his fingers.

A groan slipped from Arthur as Francis began to pump his hand at a faster pace, Arthur biting on his lip. Arthur reached down to hook his fingers around Francis' arousal before he began to run his fingers up and down.

Francis smiled in amusement at how sloppy Arthur was, the Brit's hand moving up and down messily.

Arthur, being the lazy person he was, already grew annoyed and tired.

"Enough already, I don't want to wait anymore, you bloody git. Put the stupid condom on!", Arthur growled, pulling his hand away to grab Francis' hand that was stroking him and pushing it away. Francis sighed mentally before he opened the nightstand's drawer to grab the lubricant and open it.

Once he spread some over a few fingers he returned it to the nightstand. He raised his eyes to Arthur's, watching as Arthur opened his legs.

"_Non_. Turn over.", Francis spoke in a slightly irritated tone. Arthur did as he was told and got onto his knees, resting his hands on the pillow. He glanced over his shoulder to glare at Francis.

Francis ignored it and grabbed onto Arthur's backside before spreading it apart and pushing a finger past the tight muscle. Arthur closed his eyes and felt blood flow down into his already hard cock from the anticipation of knowing what was coming.

Francis pressed it in completely before quickly adding a second finger, Arthur letting out a strained groan at the feeling. Francis began to move them in and out repeatedly, each time they pushed in as far as they could, Arthur let out a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

Once Francis slipped in a third finger, Arthur let out a groan, gripping the pillow in his hands. Francis curled them and pressed them in, hearing Arthur's pants.

"T-That's enough. Just fuck me already, damnit!", Arthur growled. Francis gladly pulled his fingers out before he retrieved a condom from the drawer. Once he ripped it open and slipped it on, he got on his knees behind Arthur.

He took hold of Arthur's hips before he pushed in partially, furrowing his eyebrows. Arthur let out a groan as he tensed his shoulders up. Before Francis began to move, he leaned over Arthur to place his hands on the bed, on both sides of Arthur, his hair brushing down onto his back.

He began to thrust his hips, Arthur groaning at the burning sensation and also the pleasure. He gripped the pillow as Francis continued to rock his hips back and forth, Arthur biting on his bottom lip and closing his eyes as he dropped his head.

"It's so hot inside you Arthur..", Francis murmured, moving his eyes over Arthur's shoulders, the muscle tensing and rolling after each movement. He leaned down to kiss him on the shoulder and his back as he continued to connect their hips repeatedly.

Francis moved his hands to rest them over Arthur's on the pillow, threading his fingers through the other's. He smiled at the comfort of Arthur's calloused hands, pressing another tender kiss to Arthur's shoulder. Arthur felt him squeeze his hands, the Brit frowning at the loving touch.

So, he pulled his hands away from Francis' to reach up to take hold of the headboard instead of the unwanted touching, before he began to pushed back into Francis' thrusts, trying to get him deeper.

Of course, Francis was disappointed but he continued to press into Arthur as the Brit pushed back into him.

Arthur's mouth went slack at the pleasure once he felt his prostate being pressed against, his arms growing weak from pushing against the headboard back into Francis. "More!", he growled, trying to get Francis to move faster.

So Francis grabbed onto Arthur's hips and began to pound into him with a harder thrust, hearing a strained moan come from him.

"_Ah!_ Yes! Ah, yeah!", Arthur threw his head back once his prostate was jabbed, his knuckles growing white from gripping the headboard tightly. A bit of precum leaked from the head of his erection then started to run down the shaft before it dripped down onto the covers of the bed.

Francis let go of Arthur's hips to run his hands up the Brit's back, feeling the damp sweat, before hooking his hands around the curve of his shoulders to pull him back into his strong thrusts.

Arthur let go of the headboard, dropping his hands to grip the pillow in his fists as Francis pulled him back by the shoulders, his cock filling him repeatedly before pulling back out.

"Ah..I can't..", Arthur breathed as he felt ecstasy build in his abdomen. He let out a groan once Francis rubbed against his prostate again. The bed creaked below them once Francis increased the speed of his thrusts, Arthur moaning each time Francis roughly pushed in all the way.

Arthur clenched around Francis' arousal before he came onto the bed's sheets with a loud moan, his legs trembling slightly. He heard Francis begin to pant, the fingers curled around his shoulders tightening.

Arthur breathed heavily as Francis' thrusts became harder. He felt Francis slide his hands up his neck and past his jaw to touch his lips with his fingertips, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows.

Then Francis came with a groan, his hands falling to rest on Arthur's once more. Arthur glanced down at their hands, his eyes glaring at them.

Once Francis pulled out, he slipped the condom off before tying it and weakly tossing it into the trash can he set up beside the bed for situations like this.

Arthur fell down onto the bed as he panted heavily, his legs feeling weak. He could feel the cum on the sheets against his stomach, but he didn't care. His eyelids grew heavy, his chest heaving against the bed as he closed his eyes. He turned onto his side, away from Francis, and tried to go to sleep.

He tried to ignore the fact that Francis slid his arm around his waist, and pulled him back against his chest. But within a minute of silence and that Francis wasn't moving to leave, he frowned.

"What was with you touching my lips?", Arthur breathed restlessly, recalling how Francis had touched his lips before he finished.

"Hm?"

"Do you like my lips?", Arthur asked, keeping his eyes closed, his breath returning to normal. He heard Francis laugh lightly, "You could put it that way."

Arthur only hummed before he mumbled, "Can you leave? I'm trying to sleep and I can't when you're clinging to me like this.." Francis remained silent.

A sigh came from Francis, "Only if I get a kiss." Arthur's frowned deepened. If that was what he had to do to make him get out, then so be it.

"Fine.", Arthur grumbled before he turned over and opened his eyes. He reached his arm up to hold Francis' cheek before he pressed his lips to the Frenchman's weakly. Francis tightened his arm around Arthur's waist before he began to kiss back passionately. Arthur moved his lips with Francis before he pulled back.

"Now get out.", he said flatly before turning back onto his side and shutting his eyes. He felt Francis slide his arm away before the bed moved, followed by a weight being lifted.

Arthur exhaled as he heard Francis pull his clothes on. Then footsteps began towards where he was laying. He felt a hand slide down his head to hold his cheek, before a pair of lips softly pressed a kiss to his forehead. Arthur kept his eyes closed, annoyed at Francis' kiss and touch, as always.

"Sleep well, Arthur.", he heard Francis whisper before the footsteps began towards the door. Arthur heard the door open, before footsteps began again, and then the closing of the door followed.

Silence welcomed Arthur with open arms, the Brit frowning, even though he wished for privacy. He then turned onto his other side, facing where Francis was laying. The smell of the Frenchman lingered.


	4. Chapter 4

A drowsy snort came from Arthur as he abruptly snapped out of his slumber, his eyes sliding open. Sunlight seeped in past the window, casting a dim light throughout the room. Arthur stared at the wall that he was facing, his arms resting in front of his chest.

He noticed that the comforter to his new bed was now draped over him. As he recalled he was laying on top of it. Unless he had somehow moved underneath it under his sleep; which was unlikely. And once he noticed that there was another rhythm of breaths in the room, he sat up.

"What are you doing here?", he asked flatly, staring at the Frenchman across the room who was sitting in the armchair.

"Hm? Oh, good morning Arthur.", Francis smiled. "Don't give me that bullshit. Why are you _here_?", Arthur snapped, before he yanked the covers off of him, standing from the bed. He noticed that Francis' eyes lowered. With an annoyed sigh he bent down to grab the towel he used last night to wrap it around his waist.

"I simply thought we could spend the day together. Go on a date..?", Francis said as he pushed from the armchair. Arthur noticed the dried cum on his stomach once he wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Nope.", he answered before he began towards the bathroom. Obviously, Francis followed. Just as Arthur entered the bathroom, he slammed the door shut in Francis' face.

"Leave me alone. In fact, why don't you just go away?", Arthur asked in irritation through the door before he turned to the shower. He only heard silence outside the door. Glad that Francis hadn't entered, Arthur dropped the towel to the ground before he started the shower.

Once Arthur washed his stomach and stood beneath the hot water for a good twenty minutes, he stepped out, noticing Francis hadn't sneaked in to 'surprise' him once he got out. Arthur glared at nothing in particular then went to the sink to stare into his reflection of the mirror.

He reached up to run a hand through his dripping hair before he tapped his snake bites, recalling Francis' comment.

_'It is slightly uncomfortable..'_, Arthur thought to himself before he raised his other hand to gingerly take out one of them. Once he removed the second one, he placed them on the sink before running his fingers over the small punctured holes with a blank expression. He shrugged then yanked a towel off the towel rack.

After drying himself, he tossed the towel on the floor. Assuming Francis had left due to his silence, Arthur left the bathroom without any coverage.

But once he stepped out, Francis was staring at the photographs on his wall again. He frowned but ignored it as he approached his closet to retrieve a pair of skinny jeans and a shirt.

"You look much more handsome without them, I have to admit, Arthur.", he heard Francis speak, noticing he was closer. Arthur didn't respond, only continued to pull on his underwear before his clothes. Once he snatched his jacket off the armchair, he slipped it on then turned to face Francis.

"That's too bad, then.", Arthur retorted before he pushed past him to grab his guitar and sit on the end of the bed. Once he plugged it into the amplifier, he looked around for his pick.

"What are you doing, _Sourcils_? What about our date?", Francis spoke up as he returned to his seat on the armchair across from Arthur.

"What about it? Not that I _ever _agreed to it, dolt.", Arthur snapped then grinned once he found his pick beneath the bed.

A sigh blew from Francis, "Why not? We can do something simple." Arthur only laughed out loud before he wrapped his fingers around the fingerboardof the guitar.

"_No_ thank you.", he said crossly.

"Please? Just this once. I won't ask again."

Arthur looked up at Francis, a slight frown on his lips, "If that's the case, then maybe. It just matters what you have in mind."

"I was thinking lunch, a movie, and then I'll bring you back here.", the frown on Francis' lips formed into a smile. Arthur stood up before he unplugged the guitar from the amplifier and then returned to it's place on the wall.

"Fine. Only three hours to bear with you.", Arthur agreed before he began to pace to the door. Francis followed happily with a grin on his lips, pleased with Arthur's acceptance.

* * *

><p>After they made it to a nearby family restaurant – which was not too fancy of course – and ate a twenty dollars worth meal, they began towards the theater.<p>

"So what shitty movie are we seeing?", Arthur asked once Francis pulled into the parking lot (which wasn't too crowded for a Wednesday evening). The roof of the Convertible was pulled up, allowing more warmth and privacy, not that Arthur wanted anymore than he had to with Francis.

"Hm, nothing really special. The theater shouldn't be too full.", Francis danced around the question as he slid into a parking space. No cars nearby. Arthur remained silent once Francis shut the car off.

Once Arthur shoved the door open and stepped out, he slammed it shut, hearing a heaved sigh come from Francis. He grinned before he began towards the entrance, Francis shortly following behind after locking the vehicle.

It took awhile to get their tickets and make their way to the theater, Arthur glaring all the while. And as they walked into the darkened theater, Francis had sneaked his hand around Arthur's waist only for it to be yanked off angrily.

Francis smiled at Arthur then moved his eyes over the seats of the theater, taking note of how there were only ten people scattered about, none of them in the back. Perfect.

"This way.", he whispered to Arthur before he began towards the stairs that led to the top. Francis grinned at how everything turned out like he had hoped as he guided Arthur to the very far back seats. Arthur grumbled to himself as he made his way up the lightly lit stairs, hearing the talking of the previews coming from the wide screen.

Francis shuffled past the seats to the center of the back row, pushing the seat down before sitting. Arthur did the same with a displeased glare, only he shoved his chair down. He crossed his arms and stared at the screen as it went through the uninteresting previews and advertisements.

Eventually, it made it to the movie. Noticing how it was a romantic comedy, Arthur let out a groaned yell.

"Are you fucking kidding me?", Arthur snapped at Francis. Francis glanced at him, "_Quoi?_"

"What is this rubbish? Are you trying to make me loathe this more than I am?"

Francis grinned, "Trust me, you won't be paying attention." Arthur growled. "Of course I won't! I'm fucking leaving. Screw this stupid 'date'. I hope you've had a _wonderful_ time!", the sarcasm rolled off his tongue heavily before he stood from the seat.

Before he could stomp away, Francis reached up to grab his forearm. "Wait! Don't go. Please, just bear through it with me. And _oui_, I have been having a good time with you, Arthur." Arthur sneered down at him, "I'll only stay if you buy me beer and cigarettes afterwards."

"_D'accord_. Now sit."

Arthur did as he was told, with a pleased smile on his lips. But it quickly disappeared once he looked back up to the screen.

Within twenty minutes, Arthur was trying not to cry. Well, he obviously wouldn't. But if the cheesiness didn't cease, he might end up going insane. He was burying his face in his hands, trying not to see anymore. But he could still hear the half-assed lines.

Suddenly, he felt a hand slide over his thigh. It slid farther in, before the fingers began to touch the front of his jeans. Arthur lifted his head from his hands to glance at Francis. Seeing a small smile on the Frenchman's lips, he reached down to grab his hand, digging his nails into the skin.

"What do you think you're doing, you frog?", he hissed lowly, before he glanced around, seeing no one around. Oh, so that's why they sat so far back. What a pervert.

"What do you think? It's better than watching this moronic movie, right?", he replied before he began to massage Arthur's cock through his jeans.

"Couldn't we have done this at my bloody apartment than having to come _here_? It would've saved me a lot of stress, you idiot!", he all but yelled at him. Francis slapped Arthur's hand off his, "Just relax and try not to make any noise or suspicious movements, _oui_?"

Arthur remained silent, feeling him press harder. He bit on his bottom lip.

Once Francis noticed Arthur's hesitant acceptance, he unzipped his jeans before he slipped his hand in to pull out his slightly hard cock.

"What..! Don't take it out you idiot!", Arthur growled, but didn't move to object. Francis ignored him and started to stroke it in his hand, Arthur reaching up to take hold of the armrest. Francis' fingers tightened around the shaft, Arthur clenching his teeth.

Francis brushed his fingers over the head and the ring, watching Arthur's face the whole time. He stared at the blush on his cheeks and how his eyebrows were furrowed and that his eyes were barely open. He smiled lightly once he sped up his hand, noticing how Arthur's grip on the armrest had tightened.

He heard a small grunt come from Arthur, followed by heavy pants. Francis watched with a smile as he rubbed his thumb in circles around the tip before running his hand down the shaft. Seeing how Arthur's mouth went slack, he began to speed up his hand.

Francis felt Arthur's precum slide down from the head, his fingers spreading it out, making his strokes faster. Growing slightly turned-on himself, Francis leaned over to press his lips to Arthur's, not caring if they were caught anymore. Arthur began to kiss back strongly, lifting his hand to rest it on Francis' neck.

Francis furrowed his eyebrows at the feeling of Arthur's warm lips without the piercings. He lifted his free hand to hold Arthur's flushed cheek, Francis kissing him with more passion. He felt Arthur slide his hand on his neck to his shoulder.

Suddenly, the hand on his shoulder gripped tightly, Francis hearing Arthur groan against his lips before Francis felt Arthur cum onto his hand, the substance hot on his fingers. He lifted his hand away and pulled back from Arthur to raise his hand to his lips and lick the cum off his fingers nonchalantly.

"We..are _never _doing this again.", Arthur said through light pants as he returned his cock to his pants before closing the zipper. Francis remained silent, feeling how he himself was now slightly hard, but just ignored it. He stood before he took hold of Arthur's arm and pulled him up.

"What? We're leaving? Thank_ god_.", Arthur hissed before he began to stride to the end of the row. Francis following behind.

Once they left the building, Arthur let out a laugh. "Is that honestly all you wanted to do? Just wank me off in some public place? You are so strange sometimes.", he glanced at Francis with a smirk.

Francis smiled, "Not exactly. Even though that was some of my desire, I mainly wanted to spend more time with you than just making love."

That made Arthur cringe visibly, the smirk wiping off his face. "_Don't_ say that. It's not like that at all. I only fucking agreed to this stupid waste of my time date just so you wouldn't beg me about it, you-"

Francis interrupted him by grabbing him by the arm and pulling him close enough to connect their lips. Before Arthur could react, he pulled back.

"Can I just take you home?", he asked before he let go and walked faster towards the car. Arthur arched a brow before he caught up. Once they made it to the car, Francis unlocked the doors before they got in.

Arthur was silent as Francis shut the door, a confused look on his face. He glanced over at Francis, staring at his face. Before Francis could put the keys in the ignition, Arthur reached over to grab his forearm.

"Hey, I want to do something before we leave..like you know..for you since I didn't do anything for you in the theater..", Arthur began before he leaned across the seats to press his lips to Francis' roughly. Francis placed the keys in the cup holder as he began to return the kiss eagerly. Arthur moved his hand to gently massage the front of Francis' jeans as he did in the theater.

Obviously, Arthur wasn't just doing this for Francis' own pleasure; he still felt horny from the handjob.

Wanting to get things to go faster, Arthur unbuttoned Francis' jeans and undid the zipper before he slipped them down past his knees. Then he pulled away to yank his own jacket off and toss it into the back seat before lifting his shirt off above his head. Francis did the same, pulling his sweater off to toss it in the back to join Arthur's clothes.

Then they went back to kissing and sliding their hands over each other's skin, Arthur too clouded with lust to care this time.

By the time they were bare of clothes, both of them were hard from the anticipation and touching. Arthur was now on his lap, his legs on both sides of Francis. Francis reclined the seat, so now Arthur had to lean down to kiss him.

The roof of the Convertible had been giving them more privacy from the eyes of strangers (not that either of them cared at all if someone saw them), as well as more warmth.

Arthur had been grinding on Francis as they kissed sloppily, until Francis grabbed his hips to stop.

"I don't think I brought any lubricant or condoms.", he said, looking up into Arthur's eyes. "And?", Arthur asked blankly before he began to move his hips again.

"And you don't care?", Francis asked, sliding his hands up Arthur's sides. "I'm horny as fuck. You think I would care if my ass hurt a little bit?", Arthur answered impatiently then let out a groan at the friction.

Francis slid his hand down Arthur's back to his ass, before he pushed the tip of his finger in. Arthur let out another groan even though it was only the tip, and continued to rock his hips, making Francis slip his finger in as Arthur moved his hips back into it.

Arthur bit his bottom lip as Francis added a second finger, feeling a stinging pain due to the fact they weren't using lube, but overrall it made him more turned-on. He felt Francis begin to press them in and out, Arthur dropping his head and tried to push back into them, attempting to get them farther in.

Their skin brushed together repeatedly, causing more friction and warmth. Francis continued to twist and move his fingers inside Arthur before he pulled them out. Arthur panted heavily, disappointed but then felt his erection twitch in excitement from what was coming.

Francis guided Arthur's hips down onto the tip of his arousal, Arthur reaching back to rest his fingers on the shaft to guide it in. Once the head slipped in, Arthur bit his bottom lip as he pushed down all the way, letting out a loud groan once Francis' erection stretched him out, filling him completely.

It was painful, but after a little bit, it was shadowed by pleasure. Arthur reached out to place his hands on the armrests of the seat for support.

He slowly lifted himself, his mouth slacking, before he slammed back down. Arthur let out a moan, Francis furrowing his eyebrows. Arthur's legs began to tremble.

"Aw yeah..", Arthur breathed as he lifted himself once more before dropping back down, the armrests beneath his hands bending downwards slightly from supporting his weight. Francis kept his hands on Arthur's waist as Arthur continued to thrust himself down onto him.

Francis watched Arthur's expressions and listened to his pants and moans, watching the blush on his cheeks darken and how his lips trembled almost unnoticeable, and how he occasionally bit his bottom lip.

"_Embrasse-moi..._", Francis breathed. Arthur opened his eyes slightly to look down at Francis.

"I don't..speak frog.", Arthur panted, his eyes closing and reopening each time he lowered and lifted himself.

"I said kiss me, _imbécile_.", Francis panted, annoyed slightly. He noticed the strange look on Arthur's face. And he was slightly surprised Arthur leaned down, as he continued to lift and drop himself, to kiss him strongly on the lips, moving his hands from the armrests to hold his face.

Francis almost moaned from Arthur kissing him so _passionately, _he moved his hands up from his waist up his sides and slid them over his back gently, moving his lips with Arthur's.

After a minute of kissing, Arthur pulled away and returned his hands to the armrest, and then focused on getting Francis deeper. Francis thanked him in his head before he grabbed Arthur's hips and started to thrust up into him as he came down, emitting a long moan from Arthur's lips.

The car rocked from the movement. Arthur panted and groaned, his prostate being rubbed against. And then he felt pleasure flow into his abdomen from nearing his climax, Arthur trying to make the thrusts faster and stronger.

"Ah..I'm going to..! Harder!", Arthur leaned back to grip Francis' knees and tried to lift himself and drop at a faster rate. Francis continued to thrust up into him, each time making Arthur's breath stutter.

Their skin was dotted with beads of sweat, Arthur's mouth slack. Then, Arthur came onto Francis' chest after a hard thrust, a ragged group of pants following. Francis continued to thrust into him roughly, trying to reach orgasm with furrowed eyebrows. Shortly, he came into Arthur with a groan, his eyes clenched shut.

The windows started to fog up from their heavy breathing, Arthur remaining still as he stared down at Francis. He lifted his hips off of Francis' cock before he crossed the seats to sit in his with a heaved sigh. Francis pulled the seat up.

"You wouldn't have a towel or napkins or something, would you?", Arthur asked, feeling some of Francis' cum start to slip out. Francis motioned towards the glove compartment, Arthur reaching forward to yank it open and grab the hand towel inside.

Once he wiped himself off, he glanced over at Francis, noticing how his own cum was starting to dry on his chest. Then he tossed the towel to him, "Sorry about that."

"_Non_, thank you for-"

"For letting you put your dick up my ass? No problem.", Arthur cut him off as he leaned back to snatch his jeans and jacket.

* * *

><p><strong>Four days later<strong>

Small clouds of smoke billowed around Arthur as he smoked a cigarette at the end of his bed, his eyes fixed on the magazine in his hands, his cigarette perched between his middle and fore fingers.

The day after their trip to the theater, his hips and ass hurt. Each step he took made him hiss lowly. And it was horrible walking to and from practice. But now, it was better. It didn't hurt that much after each step, but if he sat down, it stung.

Even though it did, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, reading some guitar magazine with low interest. Glad that he had come home to an empty apartment, he decided on taking a shower. But even those don't take much time, so he thought of practicing on his guitar, but his arms were still sore from practice with the band.

So his last option, that he didn't really mind doing, was reading some magazine that was lying around. And once he found the magazine, he found an unused cigarette between the pages. And even the cigarette was starting to disappear.

"Bastard still has to buy me my bloody cigarettes and beer..", Arthur murmured to himself, recalling Francis' deal. Arthur ran his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling only skin. Not his snake bites.

At practice, his band mates had asked why he wasn't wearing them, and he lied (lamely) that they fell off and he couldn't find them. He didn't really know why he was lying in the first place. He could've just said that he took them off, which was the truth, but they would know something was up, since he never cared about his appearance or anything trivial like that.

Annoyed with his thoughts and boredom, Arthur tossed the magazine against the wall to his right, the magazine smacking against it loudly before falling to the carpet. He stared at the floor as he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling before dropping his hand and blowing out the smoke.

Wondering where Francis was, Arthur stood from the bed and walked to the window. He stared out, down past the balcony into the parking lot, looking for a red Convertible. Seeing the car he was looking for wasn't there, he frowned. Why did he even care where the idiot was?

Arthur turned to the bathroom before walking in and throwing the cigarette into the toilet then returning to his bedroom to snatch the note Francis had left him two weeks ago off the nightstand. He didn't have a cellphone, so he had to go down into the apartment's lobby to use the public phone there.

Once he opened his door and locked it behind him, he made his way down the balcony's stairs and towards the lobby's door.

The lobby was empty save for himself and the person sitting at the desk. He walked towards the desk, where it had the phone beside it, eying the obese, middle-aged woman as he yanked the phone off the hook.

"That'll be twenty-five cents, sir.", she said aloud, throwing Arthur a sneer. _'Shut up, you fat cow.'_, Arthur snapped at her in his head.

"Yup.", he slapped back before digging in his jacket's pocket and retrieving the only quarter he hasn't been able to spend. Once he pushed it into the coin slot, he raised the note to read the number. He began to punch it in with an annoyed expression then stood there awkwardly, but angrily, as the ringing began.

The ringing repeated, making Arthur's mood drop each time. He felt like punching the wall but held it in. Once it reached voice mail, hearing Francis' voice made him slam the phone down as he cursed loudly.

"Please, no cursing and be gentle with the phone, will you?", the lady sighed heavily, as if he was a nuisance.

"Kiss my arse.", he snapped before turning to stride to the door, slamming it open before walking out. He ran towards the stairs before going up it two steps at a time. Once he made it to his door, he shoved the key in and then twisted it before pushing the door open.

After he slammed the door shut behind him, he growled loudly. He felt like ripping his hair out and up turning his bed and beating his guitar against the wall. He always did. But the urge was at it's best currently.

Instead, he threw his key against the wall, letting out a yell. It only made a small noise, not really satisfying. Arthur sat down on the floor and buried his head in his hands miserably. It was annoying being bored and it was annoying not being able to contact someone you wanted to talk to.

Wait—He wanted to talk to Francis?

He shoved the thought out of his head as soon as it broke in. Maybe, he could pick some girl off the street. But the more he thought about it, he felt like cringing. He sighed in defeat.

All he wanted to do now, that would distract him, was to sleep. So, he got up before yanking off his leather jacket and tossing it onto the armchair. Once he took off his skinny jeans and pulled his shirt over his head, he made his way towards the messy bed.

Loving how the blankets were disheveled and that the pillows were spread out, he fell down onto the cushions and thick blankets with a sigh of comfort. Maybe this was a little better than his old shitty bed. _Maybe_.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke with a start, his eyes snapping open. His skin was dotted with sweat from his nightmare, his chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths. He slowly sat up and rested his elbows on his knees to hold his face in his hands.<p>

The cold of the apartment seeped over his skin, making the sweat cold, a jolted shiver shooting through Arthur. Once his breathing returned to normal, Arthur dropped his arms and stared at the wall. It was black, coming off intimidating.

Within a minute of staring, his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room. He sighed before sliding off the bed, his feet placing on the short carpet. After he pushed off and stood there, he stared at the door. He felt strange. Like he felt paranoid or nervous or _terrified_.

His eyebrows furrowed. He also felt like something was coming. Like something bad was bound to happen sooner or later. He had felt this way before his mother died three weeks later. He began to shake slightly, his hands closing into fists.

The only sounds he could hear was his quiet breathing and the buzz of cars outside, even though there weren't many.

He began to walk towards the bathroom, deciding a shower would help him relax and distract him from his poisoning thoughts. Once he walked in and flipped the light on, a wave of relief and strength washed through him.

He reached down to push his underwear down to his ankles, stepping over it before walking to the shower to start it. He let the water run until it grew warm. Then he stepped past the shower curtain into the hot – but not too hot – water with a sigh.

Within five minutes of standing in the spray of water, his legs grew tired. So, he sat down and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. The hot water rained down onto his head and legs and arms, his eyes sliding close from the warmth and comfort.

He tried to keep the threatening thoughts away for twenty minutes, and he was successful, so he got out. After pulling his underwear on without bothering to dry himself off, he opened the door and turned the light off before walking out and shutting the door behind him quietly.

It was dark, like before, so he had to adjust to the light again. Once he did, he made his way to the nightstand, where he had returned the note. He grabbed it before pulling on a pair of pants and a sweater Francis had added to his wardrobe.

Not putting on his boots, he opened the door to his apartment and walked out. Once again, he began towards the lobby, moving down the stairs before making it to the lobby. He opened the door and looked in, seeing no one inside.

The lights were on anyways, apparently. He walked in, the door sliding shut behind him. He approached the phone as earlier, lifting it (more gently) off the hook. After slipping in a quarter he found in his nightstand's drawer and pressing the numbers in after glancing at the note, he held the phone up to his pierced ear.

It began to ring repeatedly, Arthur's heart dropping. As it continued to ring, he stood there, bare footed, with a frown on his lips. Once the voice mail came on, he didn't hang the phone up. He listened to Francis' voice apologize and speak with a heavy French accent. Then the language switched to French, probably repeating the same words.


	5. Chapter 5

"Where is he?", Arthur yelled, his hands balled into fists. He was craving alcohol and Francis still hasn't shown up to give him his part of the deal. As he paced back and forth in his apartment, he was debating whether or not to call him again, but that would make him seem like a clingy person.

Through with his thoughts, he heaved a sigh as he sat down on the end of his bed. He raised his hands to ruffle his hair before cursing out loud. He was bored again. As yesterday and the day before.

Where was Francis? It's been five days since their 'date' and Arthur wanted his cigarettes and beer _now_. And it was annoying being bored all the time. Maybe he could go to sleep again. But he wasn't even tired. He placed his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands.

After a moment, he recalled having practice a little later today, so he dropped his hands and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. An hour before it started.

Glad he finally he had something to do, he stood before grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. It took about fifty minutes to walk to practice, so he didn't want to waste ten minutes just sitting around. Once he pulled the door open and locked it behind him, he began down the stairs before walking in the right direction with a sour mood despite the fact he wasn't bored anymore.

* * *

><p>After practice, which lasted four hours, he decided on visiting the library that was nearby, thinking of any way possible to distract himself from returning to the apartment.<p>

The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked up the pathway to the doors, a cute looking girl (who looked like she was in her late teens) passing him, Arthur throwing a grin at her that she ignored. He grumbled to himself as he shoved past the doors into the warm library, the frown on his lips deepening once he noticed the group of snotty looking middle-schoolers.

Trying to ignore their stares, he strode past them into the spacious lobby, glancing around to look for the right book sections. Why was he even here? He hated being in public places. People always judged him and stared at him, just like those bratty kids.

Once he spotted the correct section, he walked towards it, his footsteps disrupting the quiet. He noticed how a woman, probably in her early thirties, smiled at him warmly, as if she knew who he was. He arched a pierced brow at her before walking past her into the shelves of books.

He began to glance at the titles of the books, noticing how most of them were histories of musical bands and memorable musicians. Not entirely interested of the country and soft rock genres, he made his way to alternative.

Once he recognized the name of a band that his bandmates were discussing earlier, _The White Stripes _as he recalled, he pulled the book out before flipping it open and scanning the content page. Seeming like something he could bear, he held onto it as he walked through the rest of the alternative genre.

None of the rest seemed interesting, so he aimlessly paced towards the novels. Instantly striding past the romance section, he slowed his walk near the mystery and gore. Scanning the book spines, he began to pull out a few that looked thick enough for his liking. He read the backs for the summaries, liking how it sounded for the thickest one.

Returning the others to the shelves, he turned to walk past the shelves out into the lobby. He approached the check-out with a blank expression, not exactly sure why he cared for reading right now.

Once he walked up to the counter, he placed the two books in front of the woman standing there. She looked to be in her late twenties. She smiled at him before lifting the first book up to scan the barcode.

"Hello. Do you have a library card?", she asked with a light tone. Arthur raised his eyes to her light brown irises.

"Um, no, actually.", he answered, reaching up to scratch his cheek absentmindedly. She placed the book on the counter.

"Okay. I'll let you go this one time. But next time, you need a library card, alright? We need them to contact you in case the books are late, but I trust you for you to return them on time."

Arthur noticed how she continued to smile at him. "Thank you.", he awkwardly said, surprised she 'trusted' him in the first place even though he didn't even know who she was. Once she scanned the second book, she lifted them and held them out for Arthur to take.

"Have a good day.", she said as she placed them in his hands. Arthur continued to stand there. "Do I know you by chance..?", he asked, keeping his eyes on her's. She continued to smile lightly, "I don't think so."

"Then why do you trust me out of nowhere?"

"You seem like a responsible person, to me. You hold yourself well.", she folded her hands on the counter, her long black hair falling down past her shoulders. Arthur blinked in confusion.

"Uh, thank you..if it's alright for me to ask, what's your name?", he asked, holding the books in his hands awkwardly.

"Michelle.", she answered as she raised her hand (her fingernails painted a light violet) to brush her bangs back. Arthur cracked a small smile, "I..think that's a pretty name." She laughed, "Thank you. Can I ask for yours?"

"Arthur."

"Well it was nice meeting you Arthur, and I hope we run in to each other again in the future.", her lips in a wide smile. Arthur grinned, "Yeah. See you later, hopefully." Once she nodded, he turned to walked towards the doors before pushing out past them.

Now leaving in a good mood, he began walking down the pathway out into the parking lot before making his way towards his apartment, his books in hand.

* * *

><p>Apparently, two hours passed as he was sitting on his bed, his back resting against the headboard, reading the mystery novel he had checked-out. Bored with reading, he folded the corner of a page before shutting the book.<p>

Once he placed it on the nightstand, he glanced at the alarm clock, reading the numbers that labeled 11:37 p.m.

He heaved a sigh before he rested his hands in his lap, crossing his bare feet. His thoughts drifted to Michelle, a small smile slipping over his lips. She seemed smart, and nice. But he forgot to ask for her age. Maybe he could return to the library tomorrow.

After a few minutes of thinking of her, his thoughts had wandered to Francis, and how he hasn't seen him in a while. The smile on his lips disappeared.

He slid off the bed before he lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the armchair to join his jacket, then worked on getting his jeans off. After stripping down to his underwear, he walked to the light switch before flipping it down, the light allowing the darkness to take over.

He ran a hand through his hair as he walked to the bed, before he flopped down onto it with a sigh of relief. Once he slipped underneath the thick blankets, and nestled his head below a pillow, he closed his eyes. Within ten minutes, he drifted off to a pleasant slumber.

But he woke up thirty minutes later due to his door unlocking and quietly sliding open.

After the door shut, he heard footsteps begin towards the bed. Arthur's eyes shot open. Before he could sit up, he felt arms slide over his waist and a heavy weight add to the bed.

"Please, don't speak or move.", he heard the familiar voice whisper behind him, a body connecting with his, Arthur's back facing them.

Arthur turned his head back, "_You..!_" Even though he couldn't see, he knew who it was. A hand turned his head back to face the wall, "I said don't move."

Silence lingered as Arthur strangely obeyed. He continued to stare at the wall as the body beside his breathed softly, the arms around his waist tightening slightly, pulling them closer.

"I missed you..", Francis murmured, Arthur continuing to remain silent as he felt a pair of lips kiss his head. Arthur wanted to pull away, but listened to Francis' request.

"Did you miss me? You did call me twice..", Francis asked quietly as he kissed Arthur's bare shoulder. Arthur frowned slightly as a blush tinted his cheeks lightly, which he grew mad at. But he didn't answer, only laid there as Francis continued to kiss him gently on the neck and shoulder repeatedly.

Arthur shivered once he felt one of the hands around his waist travel lower to massage his cock through his underwear. Francis remained silent as he began to stroke it through the fabric, until Arthur grew hard.

Once he did, Francis hooked his fingers around the waistband before slipping it down to his knees, only to return his fingers to Arthur's arousal. Arthur clenched the pillow in his hand once Francis began to stroke it, his fingers rubbing the tip and lightly flicking his piercing ring, causing Arthur to hold back any noises that threatened to escape.

"Mm, Arthur I'm already turned on from just touching you..", Francis whispered before he kissed him on the neck, continuing to move his fingers up and down. Arthur began to pant lightly, trying to ignore his words.

He had to admit, he was relieved Francis had returned. But only because he was getting tired of not having sex.

He felt Francis quicken the pace on his hand, Arthur's eyes closing. Even though it was only a handjob, he was almost about to finish, due to the fact he was yearning to be touched for the past four days.

He felt Francis move his other hand over his chest and stomach as he continued to pump his hand on his arousal, Arthur feeling how cold his hand was on his chest. Arthur lifted his hand from the pillow to place it over Francis', confused why he did but squeezed Francis' hand anyways.

Arthur felt him kiss his head at the gesture, the hand on his arousal moving more fluidly. Arthur craned his head back, clenching his eyes. His mouth went slack before he came onto Francis' hand and the blankets, his breath coming out ragged.

"I'll clean the blankets tomorrow.", Francis murmured before he began to kiss Arthur on the skin again. Arthur panted lightly, dropping his hand from Francis' to rest on the pillow.

Francis kept his fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows when he began to stroke it again.

"What are you-"

"I said don't speak.", Francis cut him off as he continued to run his fingers up and down the shaft until he was hard again. Arthur remained silent, not really minding. Francis pulled his hand away to wipe the cum off on the towel Arthur kept by the bed, then he turned to pull open the nightstand drawer to take out the lubricant and spread some over his fingers.

"Lift your leg.", Francis said as he placed the lube bottle on the nightstand. Arthur hooked his arm underneath his knee, between his thigh and calf, and lifted it, giving room for Francis.

He felt Francis gently push two fingers past the tight ring of muscles, Arthur closing his eyes at the slight stretch. He took hold of the pillow with his free hand once Francis pressed his fingers in all the way, before he began to curl and separate them, stretching him out as much as possible.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows once he added a third finger. Trying to speed things up, Francis began to thrust them in and out. Arthur bit on his bottom lip once his fingers brushed against his prostate, a rush of blood flowing into his already hard cock.

Francis pulled his fingers out before he spread some lubricant over his erection, then placed his hand on Arthur's waist. Arthur continued to hold his leg up, his arm growing tired but he ignored it, waiting for Francis with nervous anticipation.

Francis guided his arousal to Arthur's entrance before he began to ease it in slowly, Arthur gritting his teeth and clenching his fingers. Francis slid his hand over Arthur's between his thigh and calf. Arthur noticed and pulled his hand away to grip the pillow, letting Francis hold his leg up. Francis began to slowly rock his hips, Arthur clenching around him.

Arthur felt a stinging pain from the stretch, his eyebrows furrowing.

"..Ah...", Arthur breathed once Francis pushed in all the way. He felt Francis quicken the movement of his hips slightly, the thrusts soft and rhythmic. Arthur moved his hand to grip the sheets, feeling the pain ease into shadowed pleasure.

Francis continued to kiss his shoulder and neck as he moved his hips, his eyes closed. Arthur began to pant lightly, feeling a wave of pleasure from the soft thrusts. Arthur felt Francis stroke his thigh with his thumb as he rocked his hips.

"Move..faster..", Arthur murmured. He felt Francis begin to thrust into him harder, but not faster, the bed moving slightly. Arthur let out a moan once he pressed against his prostate. To his slight surprise, Francis moved his hand to cover his mouth from making anymore noises.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he covered his mouth, but let it be, only wanting him to move faster. Arthur tried to push back into the thrusts, but Francis' grip on his thigh tightened, not letting him move.

Francis kept moving his hips fluidly, repeating to brush against Arthur's prostate after each thrust. Arthur moaned against Francis' hand after each roll of Francis' hips, Arthur moving his hand to grip the covers.

"Mmm..", Arthur's eyes clenched shut once his prostate was pressed against, his lip trembling slightly as pleasure flowed down into his cock. Once Francis began to thrust at a faster pace, he arched his back each time Francis pressed in all the way, Arthur feeling his cock fill him.

Their skin was dotted with sweat as Francis thrust into Arthur harshly, the only sounds in the room being their panting, the sounds of their skin meeting, and Arthur's muffled moaning.

"Arthur..look at me.", Francis whispered as he moved his hand away from Arthur's lips. Arthur turned his head back to look at him over his shoulder. He watched as Francis leaned forward to press their lips together passionately, Arthur closing his eyes and kissing back lightly.

They kissed strongly, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows as their lips moved together. He pulled back to pant as Francis continued to thrust into him, feeling more pleasure overwhelm him.

"A-Ah..!", Arthur felt him jab the bundle of nerves again, his back arching slightly. He curled his toes, letting out a weak moan each time Francis pressed in all the way. "Haah..haa..mnn..ah!", Arthur panted heavily and bit his bottom lip.

Francis felt him clench around his arousal. He began to thrust roughly into Arthur as he moved his hand over Arthur's chest, the hand holding up Arthur's leg tightening slightly. He heard Arthur let out a stressed moan before he came onto the sheets, his breath becoming ragged. Arthur gripped onto the pillow as Francis continued to thrust into him, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt Francis thrust into him once more before releasing into him.

After Francis pulled out, and they turned onto their backs, side by side, their pants filled the room, the beads of sweat lingering on their skin. They laid there, their chests heaving up and down after each intake and release of breath.

Arthur kicked off the blanket, not wanting anymore heat. He felt weak, from the after feeling of the orgasm, his eyes remaining closed. He rested his hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly.

He looked over at Francis, seeing how his eyes were closed, his hair matted to his neck and shoulders. Arthur stared at him as he panted lightly. He then reached over to brush away his locks of hair off his neck, noticing how Francis opened his eyes to look at him.

The Frenchman reached up to grab Arthur's hand, and held it. He rested their hands on his chest, Arthur feeling how Francis' heart was beating fluidly. A small tint of blush painted Arthur's cheeks at the feeling.

Apparently, Francis noticed it, and smiled. He used his other hand to reach over and stroke his tinted cheek with his thumb, Arthur frowning.

"Did you miss me?", Francis whispered, and smiled lightly as he kept his eyes on Arthur's. The Brit pulled his hand away, "No." He turned away from him to lay as far away as his bed would allow, his back to Francis.

He heard Francis slide over to him, Arthur scowling once Francis slide his arm around his waist, pulling them closer. He felt Francis kiss his head.

"Arthur, will you marry me?", he heard him murmur, Arthur's eyes widening. Arthur pulled away, feeling his heart beat increase.

"What the fuck? Why are you asking _me _this? You know the answer, you fucking idiot.", Arthur snapped, but was completely confused. Francis smiled lightly, "No, I don't."

"_No!_", Arthur yelled at him, before he pushed off the bed.

Once he noticed that Francis continued to smile, he frowned. "Just wanted to make sure.", Francis grinned, before he reached out to grab Arthur and pull him back into bed. Arthur tried to pull away, "Wait, what? What do you mean you wanted to make sure?"

"Arthur, you think I would honestly ask you for your hand in marriage in bed?", Francis said, holding him against his chest. Arthur began to struggle in his hold, "Then what was the point in asking me?"

"Like I said; I just wanted to make sure."

"Of what?"

"Whether you wanted to be mine or not."

Arthur grew still in Francis' arms, "You are such an idiot. I would never want to be yours." Francis smiled, "I know." Arthur remained silent, not knowing what to say.

So they just laid there for a few minutes in silence, their breathing the only sound in the room. Arthur grew tired, enveloped in the warmth and – even though he would never admit it – comfort of Francis' arms. But, he still had questions.

"Where were you?", he asked quietly. He heard Francis exhale, "So you did miss me?"

"No. I just wanted to know since I had been craving sex for the past five days."

"Well..I had been at my house..checking on the bills and such. Nothing important. But, I had been planning to stay there for two weeks, but it grew very...lonesome. So I came back."

"Five days just to check your house?"

"In Paris."

Arthur pulled back to stare at him, "You live in Paris? What are you doing _here _then?" Francis smiled at him, "I'm here for you." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and pulled away from Francis, "Me? Why are you in London for me?"

"Because..you're lonely."

"But I'm not fucking lonely!", Arthur retorted. Francis laughed lightly, "I came here because I learned about you back in Paris."

"So what if you did? What made you come? I'm just some random stranger. I..don't even know your age."

"One, it doesn't..matter why I came. Two, I'm twenty-six."

Arthur remained silent, staring at Francis with an uneasy expression. Francis reached over to wrap his arms around him and pull him back, Arthur frowning. Francis continued to look at him with a small smile on his lips, his eyes studying Arthur's features.

He slid his hand up to brush his thumb over Arthur's lips, and run his fingers over his eyebrows and cheeks. Arthur remained still.

"You are very beautiful Arthur.", Francis whispered with a loving tone, his fingertips lightly touching his eyebrow piercings.

"No. I'm not. And stop touching me.", Arthur said and pushed Francis' hand away. But, instead Francis reached up to hold his cheeks and kiss him on the forehead, then the nose, his eyebrows, his cheeks, and then his lips.

"Yes, you are. I think you are.", Francis murmured, staring into Arthur's bottle green irises. Then he connected their lips again, but more strongly. Arthur closed his eyes, feeling his chest knot up, for some strange reason, he felt like he was going to cry.

He ignored the feeling and began to kiss back, moving his hands up to curl his fingers in Francis' hair. Their lips moved together, Francis continuing to hold Arthur's cheeks in his hands. As they kissed, Arthur felt his heart clench, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Once Arthur pulled back to inhale, he stared into Francis' eyes. Francis moved his hands downwards to wrap his arms around Arthur's waist, a smile on his lips.

"Now, where are my bloody cigarettes?", Arthur asked with an unamused tone.

* * *

><p>Arthur's eyelids drowsily slid open to a lightly lit room, a soft shade of sunlight seeping past the window. He was facing the wall that hugged the side of the bed, his eyes staring at the white. He could feel the softness of the blanket against his skin.<p>

Remembering he was naked and that Francis had returned the night before, he sat up, the blanket sliding down his shoulder to rest at his waist. He stared at the empty bed, except for himself, confused to why Francis had left.

He felt a headache coming on, the Brit heaving a groan as he raised his hands to hide his face. He angrily rubbed his face, before dropping his hands into his lap.

Staring at the armchair across from the bed, his thoughts wandered. But, they wandered to angered thoughts. Arthur snarled at nothing before he laid back down, onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow. Within ten minutes, he fell back to sleep.

Three more hours passed before he woke up, except now he felt lazy. After taking ten minutes to convince himself to get up, he yanked on a pair of underwear before pulling on a plain black t-shirt and his usual skinny jeans. Once he slipped on a studded belt and his boots, he grabbed his red leather jacket before pulling it on.

Now that he was standing in his apartment fully dressed, he didn't really know what to do. He considered reading those books he checked out but now that he thought about it, reading was a waste of time and it was pretty boring.

Confused to why he even went to the library in the first place, he turned to grab the books off the nightstand, but his hand froze once he noticed a new note resting beside the books. Once he grabbed it and unfolded it, he quickly read the cursive words.

_'It's shocking to see books in your apartment, love. Maybe sometime we could read together. Perhaps, without having to make love. Just a time to relax with each other. That doesn't sound so horrible, does it?-_

Arthur frowned at the term 'make love' and disagreed strongly. It did sound horrible. He continued reading.

–_Anyways, I know you would like it if I went away, so I left a bit early this time. But, if you dislike my absence, you have my number. That is, unless you threw it out the window. Love, Francis.'_

Arthur stared at the note before he sighed and returned it to the nightstand. He dropped his eyes to the books, and scowled at them. Instead of going back to the library to return them, he left them there as he turned to walk to the door.

He had no idea where he planned on going, but he wanted to leave the apartment. So, he stormed out the door and didn't bother to lock it, before making his way down the stairs and in the direction of nowhere in particular.


	6. Chapter 6

The door quietly slid open, a light draft blowing into the apartment. Arthur walked in before he shut it behind him and locked it. After flipping on the light, he yanked off his boots as he made his way to his bed, and then tossed them against the closet's door.

He had ended up walking to the library, and talking with Michelle. Apparently, she wasn't really his type. He thought she was, but it was really boring talking with her.

Feeling angry at himself for returning to the library, he sat down on the end of the bed with a sigh. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared at the floor. He felt confused, for some reason, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

He then noticed a pack of beer sitting beside his feet. He stared at it, before he glanced at the nightstand. Three packs of cigarettes, his favorite brand, sitting stacked beside his books. Francis came here when he was out. Arthur didn't really mind, seeing as it fulfilled his deal.

Reaching over to grab a cigarette pack, a small smile spread over his lips. Once he got it open and pulled out a cigarette, he fished his hand in his jean's pocket to take out his lighter.

The end burned a bright red once he held the flame up to the cigarette, the bud between his lips. He returned the lighter to his pocket as he inhaled deeply, his eyes closing. He let the smoke out with a heaved sigh.

After sitting there for twenty minutes, smoking his new cigarettes, with his thoughts wandering, he noticed that he hasn't seen Francis all day so far. He glanced at the alarm clock, seeing it was almost four p.m.

Not that he cared, but he couldn't help but wonder what Francis could do to distract himself from the time. Seeing as he lived in Paris, Arthur also wondered where he stayed. Did he rent an apartment as well? No, that doesn't seem likely. He would just insist on living with Arthur. Not that Arthur would everallow it.

Did he have relatives here? He was French, right? Arthur frowned, not really sure why he cared in the first place. But he couldn't keep the questions away, no matter how hard he tried. The question that bothered him the most, was _why _he came here. For him.

Noticing how his cigarette wasn't going to last very longer, he stood to walk to the doorway of the bathroom, and threw the spent cigarette into the toilet bowl. He wanted another one, but he felt like he should space the usage out, so he could have them longer.

He glanced up at the mirror above the sink, looking at the small, almost unnoticeable holes where his snake bites used to sit. He lifted a hand to brush his fingertips over the punctures, worrying that they would hole up.

Deciding he wanted them back, he walked out to approach the nightstand, and pulled out the drawer. After finding the rings in the corner, he picked them out before returning to the sink in the bathroom. He poked them past the small holes, before clipping them shut.

After he put them back on, he dropped his hands to look back in the mirror, studying how he looked with them. He seemed a lot more..noticeable. And it fit the image. Why did he take them out in the first place?

He continued to stare at his reflection. He looked at his short, messy hair with a blank face, not sure if he liked the look or not. He raised a hand to run it through the locks, before dropping his hand. How did Francis keep his hair so..attractive?

Arthur cringed visibly at the thought of him thinking it was _attractive_, and pushed the question away. Instead he left the bathroom after turning the light off. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the metal of his snake bites with satisfaction.

Trying to distract himself from boredom, he crossed the bed to grab his Fender off the wall and sat down on the end of his bed. Once he found his pick, he plugged the guitar into the small amplifier he kept beside the bed, and lowered the volume.

Thinking of a song he could play, he rested the guitar on his thigh, and wrapped his fingers around the fingerboard. After a song came to mind, he strummed the pick over the strings, hearing the sound it let out from the amplifier.

Once he tuned it correctly, he let out an exhale before he placed his fingertips on the right strings and began to play the first few notes.

The electric sounds filled the room, but not to loud to cause complaints, as he brought the pick back down onto the strings repeatedly, his fingers on the fingerboard moving back and forth after each note passed.

He watched his fingers as he murmured the first few lyrics he remembered, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Of course, it didn't sound the same without the other included instruments, but he continued to play nonetheless.

Within about thirty minutes of playing, his fingers began to ache. And he began to grow bored of this as well. He placed his fingers flat on the fingerboard as he lifted the pick away, the notes from the guitar ceasing.

After unplugging the guitar from the amplifier and returning the guitar to rest against the wall, he placed his pick on the nightstand.

So much for that. Only half an hour passed. He sighed and then heard his stomach growl. He hadn't eaten today yet. Or yesterday either.

He hadn't really paid attention to eating. Maybe he was starving himself, like Francis had said, without him even noticing. But he didn't have any money on him. Of course, he did have Francis' number..

Deciding that was the best he could resort to, he grabbed the note from inside the drawer of the nightstand. Realizing he had no coins in his jeans or jacket, he began to look around for some.

After spending fifteen minutes looking below the bed, in the closet, and in the bathroom for _any _money, he only had managed to find a dime.

"Fucking hell..", he growled as he threw the dime at the ground. He needed a cell phone. Even though he didn't have a quarter or anything – except for that dime – he made his way out the door and down the stairs to the lobby.

Once he approached the glass door to the lobby, he reached up to wrap his fingers around the handle before yanking it open. He groaned mentally once he noticed the same woman was sitting at the desk as last time.

He approached the phone with the note crumpled in his fist. He noticed the irritated face the woman made once she looked up at him.

"Sorry, the phone's not available.", she said as he walked up to it. He ignored her and reached up to yank it off the hook, hearing the familiar buzz. She frowned. "Look, lady, I'm sorry about what I said before.", he lied. She arched a brow at him.

"But, can I just use the phone with no charge this time? It's just a bloody quarter.", he continued, keeping his eyes on hers. She paused, her nostrils flaring, her eyes staring into his.

"Fine.", she grunted, and then looked back down at her work. He raised the phone to his ear, without saying a thanks, and glanced at Francis' number on the note. After dialing in his number, the phone – or whoever – demanded the charge.

"Just press nine first.", the lady said. Arthur pressed down on the hook, the buzzing ceasing. Then he began to dial the number again after hitting nine. It began to ring, Arthur staring at the floor, his hand balling into a fist by his side. After three rings, he picked up.

"_Allô?_", Francis greeted in French, Arthur biting on his bottom lip. "Er..hey.", Arthur awkwardly said, raising his hand to scratch his cheek.

"Oh! Arthur, hello. How are you?", he heard the instant increase of giddiness in Francis' voice. Arthur's lip twitched, "Hungry. You wanna treat me to dinner?"

He noticed Francis' pause.

"Um.._oui_..well, you're going to have to wait for me to arrive at your place.", he heard how Francis' voice lowered. Then he heard another voice – a feminine voice – ask who it was. Arthur arched a brow.

"If you're_ busy_, I can just ask Michelle.", Arthur's voice came out clipped, the Brit resisting the urge to hang up. Silence only came from the other end.

"Who's Michelle?"

Arthur laughed to himself, loud enough for the woman at the desk to raise his eyes to him. "She's my..", Arthur began, trying to find something to say that would make Francis edgy. But nothing came to mind.

"Your..?", Francis asked, his voice impatient. Arthur frowned, "Friend. She's my friend. And if you're too busy with your bitch then I'll just go out with her." Before Francis could say anything, Arthur placed the phone back down on the hook.

He ignored how the woman was now staring at him, his eyes fixed on the phone. '_What the hell just happened?_', Arthur thought to himself, confused to how it ended up like that.

Instead of caring, he rolled his eyes and left the lobby. Once he walked up the stairs and made it to his door, he slammed it open before closing it behind him quieter.

Was he really going to go to Michelle? That would be..strange. To go to the library just to ask for her to pay for his food.

He sighed. Deciding this was too much of a hassle for food, he walked back to his bed and sat down.

* * *

><p><strong>Six hours later; 10:21 p.m.<strong>

Arthur scowled once he felt a nagging pain in his stomach, another pestering growl coming from his stomach. He angrily ran his hands through his short hair, trying to think of something to do to distract himself from the hunger. He hadn't opened the beer yet, not in the mood for alcohol and a sour taste lingering in his mouth.

Instead he laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Inviting any and all thoughts to distract himself, he started thinking of random things.

He noticed his apartment had started to become littered with garbage and clothes again. But, the walls and bathroom were remaining clean. The only thing he really used the bathroom for was for the shower and the toilet. So there wasn't really anything to cause filth in there. Besides puddles of water from the showers.

And he also realized he was running out of money. Even though he was in the beginning, it was becoming a problem. He wouldn't have enough to pay for rent soon enough. Even now he didn't have enough on him to eat. The performances were bringing in small puddles of money.

And of course, the thought of eating reminded of him of his hunger, his stomach growling at him once more. He growled back, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

Then, he heard the door unlock. He raised his eyes to the door as it slid open. And who else would it be besides Francis. The Frenchman quietly walked in and shut the door behind him.

"That was my _mother_, Arthur.", he said as he approached Arthur, who was laying on the bed. A laugh escaped Arthur.

"Oh. I apologize.", he replied sarcastically as he sat up, his eyes fixed on Francis'. He watched as Francis sat beside him on the bed, and raised a hand to hold his cheek. Once Francis connected their lips, Arthur placed his hand on Francis' thigh and began to move his lips with his. They only kissed for a few seconds, Francis pulling back to smile at him.

"Did you go with Michelle?", he asked. Arthur raised his hand to push Francis' away from his cheek, "No."

"So are you still hungry?"

"Of course I am. Are you going to buy me dinner or what?"

"Of course I am.", Francs teased, reaching up to run his thumb over Arthur's bottom lip. "I see you put in your piercings.", he commented, his eyes looking back up into Arthur's. A grin spread over the Brit's lips, "You have a problem with that?"

Francis continued to stroke his bottom lip, "_Non_." Arthur slapped his hand away, a frown replacing his grin, "Where do you want to eat, then?" Francis stood, "Somewhere simple, perhaps."

"Um, there's a popular diner downtown..we could go there if you want.", Arthur stood as well, his eyes averting away from Francis'. A smile slipped over the Frenchman's lips, "_D'accord._ Let's go then."

After leaving the apartment and locking it behind them, they made their way down the stairs and into the parking lot, Francis pulling out his keys. Arthur watched silently as Francis unlocked the driver's side and got in, before he unlocked Arthur's side.

The Brit got in, shutting the door behind him. He watched as Francis buckled his seat belt, a smirk spreading over his lips.

Francis looked up at him once he clicked it, "What?"

"Why do you bother to use the blasted seat belt? It's just another way for the government to take control over you."

"Since when do you care about anything? And, I care for my safety, even if you don't.", Francis replied before he started the car, the smirk on Arthur's lips disappearing. The gravel crunched beneath the tires as Francis backed out of the parking space.

Once they turned out of the parking lot and onto the road, Arthur kept his eyes away from Francis, growing irritated already.

He noticed Francis' silence, but ignored it, not really caring. Instead, the thought of the 'date' in the parking lot of the theater came back to Arthur, the Brit glancing over at Francis, a light shade of blush heating his cheeks.

And Francis happened to look over at him once the scarlet shade tinted his face. He glanced back at the road before returning his eyes to Arthur, who had quickly looked away once he was caught. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not bloody blushing! Pay attention to the road..", Arthur mumbled, now his ears heating up. Francis grinned, "Oh are you thinking about..?"

"Shut up!", Arthur growled, trying to move farther away as the car would allow. Francis returned his eyes to the road, the grin lingering on his lips. The majority of the drive was silence, Arthur fuming in the passenger's seat.

Why did it matter if he was..embarrassed remembering their little fuck in the car? It's not like he cared last time he did it with his other partners. Francis was just a bastard. Trying to make this blasted 'friends with benefits' (hell, they weren't even _friends_) relationship into something more. Trying to make it more just from stupid dates. It took a lot more for Arthur to fall in love with anybody. Even more for Francis.

Was Francis even gay? They never discussed it, and Francis – nor him – ever mentioned it. Maybe Francis was straight, and was only fucking a gay guy. Arthur had never told him he preferred men, but it was pretty obvious. Even though he did have sex with girls, well not anymore, it wasn't for romance. He never fell in love with them. It was only for the sex.

Anyways, it's not that Arthur was in _love _with Francis, it was only for pleasure, like he's said multiple times. How was it for Francis? Was he gay? Was _he _in love with _him_?

Arthur got a headache from the unwanted thinking, so he shoved the thoughts away and distracted himself with the view out the window, his arms crossed.

"So, are you going to tell me where this restaurant is located?", Francis asked, looking over at Arthur. Arthur was still trying to be as far as possible from Francis, but glanced at him.

"It's straight ahead, I'll point it out once I see it..", he mumbled, before he returned to silence. Francis hummed, confused to why Arthur was so mad, even though it should be expected.

After a few more minutes of passing buildings, Arthur spotted the restaurant come into view.

"That's it.", Arthur spoke up as he pointed towards it, Francis following his finger. Francis nodded as he drove towards the parking lot.

By the time they parked and made it inside the restaurant, Arthur's mood lightened a little, but he was still edgy about the whole situation. He didn't feel comfortable. Should he have thought about this earlier?

His brow was furrowed as they followed their waitress to a booth, a frown forming on his lips as he slid into the opposite seat of Francis.

"What would you like to drink?", she asked in a bored tone, Arthur lifting his eyes to her. "Uh, do you have alcohol?", he replied, noticing how she arched a brow.

"This is a family restaurant.", she stated with a frown. Arthur crossed his arms, "Okay. How about water? Do you serve that?" The waitress' lips twitched in annoyance, "Yes, we do." She glanced at Francis who also asked for water, but more politely.

Arthur stared out the window, his chin resting in his palm. He felt like leaving, but his stomach argued with him. It seemed like recently he always tried to distract himself from his thoughts with his thoughts. But now, it was hopeless, seeing as the only thing he could really think about was Francis, and that is what he was trying not to think about. And he hated to admit that fact.

And he also hated to admit that Francis was all that was important and _exciting _in his life. And that made him cringe visibly. What was he even doing before Francis showed up in the band's dressing room all those days ago?

Hating everyone? Ignoring everyone? Being..alone?

But now that Francis was here, he felt different. Like maybe he wasn't alone anymore. Was that okay for him to believe? It affected his image, even if he could be the only one who knew. But recently, it seemed like Francis knew everything.

He felt a hand wander over to his on the table, Arthur dropping his eyes to them before looking up at Francis. Francis' eyes were curious and bright, Arthur squinting at them.

"What are you thinking about?", Francis asked in a murmur, his hand squeezing Arthur's lightly. See? He knew everything. He knew that he was thinking about him. So he asked the exact question.

"Nothing that concerns you."

Arthur pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. He saw the smile that appeared on Francis' lips, the Brit wanting to slap it off. He scowled at him just as the waitress returned with their glasses of water, and placed them on the table.

Apparently, she noticed Arthur's expression and the closed menus, "So, we're not ready yet?" Francis lifted his eyes to her, "Not yet." She nodded before returning to the kitchen. Arthur reached down to flip his menu open and scan the list of food. Francis did the same in silence, his aqua eyes drifting over the text.

Once they decided, they returned the menus to the table and continued to not speak, even though Arthur had many things to say. But he kept his mouth shut. Francis seemed content, a smile remaining on his lips, his hands resting over each other in his lap.

Arthur waited impatiently for the waitress to come back, but she was tending to another table. So he returned to staring out the window. Within a few seconds he felt Francis nudge his leg, the Brit looking at him.

"What?"

"What's wrong?", Francis asked as he placed his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, keeping his eyes on Arthur's. Arthur looked down at his lap, "Nothing."

"Really? You honestly believe nothing is wrong, right now this second? You wouldn't change a thing right now?", Francis demanded, his eyes fixed on Arthur. Arthur looked back up at him with an arched brow, but didn't answer.

Instead, the waitress returned with a forced smile, "You two ready to order?" Francis dropped his arm and sat back with a smile, "Yes."

She pulled out a notepad and a pen before glancing at Arthur. He hastily told her his order before taking a drink from his glass of water. After Francis kindly told her his choice, she nodded before taking their menus and returning to the kitchen to put in their order.

Arthur crossed his arms again and stared at the table top this time. Francis smiled before he slid out of the seat, "Excuse me for a moment." Arthur didn't say anything, and Francis took that as a sign to turn and approach the bathrooms.

Now Arthur began to scowl, his mood dropping. What did Francis mean by asking all of those questions? Of course he'd want to change a lot of things right now. He would want to have some money in his pocket so he could afford his own meals, and it seemed embarrassing to have to get Francis to buy him food. And he'd want to have an actual house and not a shitty apartment. He wants people to like him. He wants to see his mother again. He wants more beer and cigarettes. He wants a car.

He wants..to be in love.

But what did Francis want? In fact, he's never asked anything about Francis. What did _he _want to change? Was he happy? Maybe he could – _should –_ ask, but of course he wouldn't. What was the point? This wasn't going to last much longer.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted once Francis slid into the seat across from him, a pleased look on his face.

"You look distracted, Arthur. What are you thinking about? I am honestly curious.", Francis spoke, crossing his legs. Arthur sighed.

"Just..about what you asked me. Nothing that matters."

"Oh, but what you think or say or do matters to me, Arthur.", Francis said with a light smile. Arthur frowned, "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

Within a few minutes, the waitress came with their food in hand. Once she placed them on the table, she asked for them to enjoy their meal before she turned to leave. Arthur lifted a fork before stabbing it into the fish.

They mostly were silent throughout their eating (Arthur was ravenous so he didn't waste time speaking) but they exchanged – or mostly Francis – questions.

Once they both finished eating, they both stood to leave. After Francis paid the bill with a generous tip, he followed Arthur out the door into the parking lot.

The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they approached Francis' car, Arthur now in a better mood due to his full stomach. He felt Francis slip an arm around his waist, a frown replacing his light smile. Arthur reached down to dig his nails into his hand until the Frenchman let go.

"You are so mean!", Francis whined as he sarcastically cradled his hand that Arthur's nails made indents in. Arthur eyed him, "What are you, a child?"

"I should be asking you that!", Francis joked with a grin as he took out his keys. Arthur rolled his eyes as Francis unlocked the driver's door before he hit the unlock button on the side, Arthur walking around to his door.

Once they both got in and shut the doors, Francis turned on the car, but didn't back out of the parking lot. Arthur waited for him to leave, but after awhile they just sat there. He arched a brow and looked over at him.

"Are we going or what?", he asked, watching as Francis looked at him. He stared as Francis leaned over the space of the seats and pressed his lips to Arthur's.

Arthur froze in surprise, feeling a hand slide up his shirt to his chest. He felt Francis kiss his lips, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows. He began to kiss back lightly, confused. Once he felt Francis' other hand massage his cock through his jeans he jumped slightly.

He raised his hands to push Francis off, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I want to have sex with you."

"Not in a fucking parking lot of a family restaurant!"

"Oh, so now you care where we do it?"

"Just take me home, you prick."

Without another word, Francis sat back into his seat before he placed his hand on the steering wheel and backed out of the parking space.

* * *

><p>Francis parked outside the apartment with a frown, slightly irritated. But he pushed the feeling away once he shut the car off. Arthur was scowling again.<p>

"Get in the back.", Francis said lightly, looking over at Arthur. The Brit glared at him, "What?"

"I said get in the back."

"Of the car?"

"_Oui_."

Arthur was about to complain but he noticed Francis' stubborn expression so he sighed before stepping over the seats into the back seat. He sat back against the seat, watching as Francis followed.

Then Francis' hands were holding his cheeks and Arthur stared as Francis leaned forward towards him to press their lips together. Arthur closed his eyes and began to kiss back, lifting his hands to grab onto his shoulders.

He felt him bite his bottom lip lightly, Arthur opening his mouth slightly in surprise. Francis slipped his tongue past his lips, Arthur twitching in surprise from his entrance. He clenched his eyes as he felt his tongue slip over his teeth and over his own, the taste and feeling odd.

It's not like he hasn't used tongue with someone else before, but it felt different with Francis. They've never done it before.

And Francis' tongue wasn't the same as others. His other partners' tongues were usually fat and disgusting but his was smooth and more..comfortable. As if he used his tongue as good as he used his hands. So, Arthur began to roll his tongue with Francis' eagerly.

Francis pulled Arthur's jacket off his shoulders and tossed it into the front seats before he began to slide his shirt up, their lips and tongues disconnecting as he pulled it over his head. Instead of re-connecting their lips, Francis began to trail kisses up Arthur's neck, Arthur panting lightly.

Arthur turned to lay against the side of the car, so he was facing Francis. He bit on his bottom lip as Francis kissed his collarbone and shoulder, the Frenchman between his legs.

"Are you going to undress?", Arthur asked as he curled his fingers around the hem of Francis' sweater. Instead of waiting for his answer, he pulled it over Francis' head before tossing it over the seats. Francis looked at him before he began to kiss his jaw and neck again.

"Hold on, damnit.", Arthur growled as he struggled to take off his boots. Once he yanked them off, he threw them over the seats to join the other articles of clothing. Francis moved his hands down to Arthur's jeans and unbuttoned them before pushing it down to his knees. Arthur kicked them off and began to work on Francis' jeans as well.

Once he unbuttoned it and unzipped it, Francis pulled back to slip off his shoes before pulling his jeans off. He leaned back down to kiss Arthur on the lips and the neck again.

"Enough with the bloody kissing!", Arthur hissed once he pressed his lips to his forehead. Francis pulled back to smile at him. "Where do you want me to touch, then?"

Arthur frowned, before he grabbed Francis' hand and pressed it against his crotch.

"Here."

A smile slipped over Francis' lips before he began to massage his cock through the fabric of his underwear, his fingers stroking the sides, outlining the shape of his shaft. Arthur bit his bottom lip, feeling blood flow down into it, making it harder.

Arthur closed his eyes and craned his head back to rest it on the wall of the car as Francis ran his fingers over the head of his cock, his other hand stroking Arthur's inner thigh.

A shiver ran through Arthur once he felt Francis' tongue on his thigh, but it turned him on even more. He lifted his head and stared at Francis who was flicking his tongue against the skin of his inner thigh with a pleased look on his face at Arthur's reaction.

"Hmm, Arthur, you're hard.", Francis murmured as he stroked his arousal through the fabric. "Nng, no, really?", Arthur growled sarcastically, moving his hand to grip Francis' hair.

Francis ignored it, sucking on the inside of Arthur's thigh with a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. Arthur pulled at his hair, "Knock it off!"

A grin overtook Francis' lips as he pulled back, "Why? Because it's turning you on so much?"

Arthur punched him on the head, "Why are you so goddamn awkward during sex? Are you trying to turn me off?" Francis chuckled as he scooted up to kiss Arthur strongly on the lips, making Arthur's hands go weak.

The Frenchman ran his hands up and down Arthur's chest, spreading heat over his skin. They wandered down to his abdomen, Francis tickling the bristle hair that lead downwards past the waistband of his underwear. Arthur repressed a moan at the feeling of his fingertips, the anticipation killing him. All the while of Francis' touching, their lips moved together harshly, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows.

Francis pulled back to snarl breathlessly, "I'm going to fuck you so hard." Arthur felt more blood flow downwards at his heavy breathing and his words, his lips trembling slightly. "Then do it.", he whispered back, his hands sliding up Francis' sides.

The hands at his stomach moved lower to hook two fingers around the waistband of his underwear, before yanking it down, Arthur's arousal standing up after it's release. Arthur ran his tongue hungrily over his bottom lip and snake bites, his eyes staring at the other as Francis pulled his own underwear off.

"Did you bring lube this time?", he demanded as Francis crawled back over him. He wouldn't really care if he hadn't, but he hated how it hurt during and afterwards.

Francis smiled, "_Oui_." Arthur watched as he reached past the seats to the glove compartment before he pulled it open and grabbed the lubricant bottle inside as well as a hand towel. After spreading some lubricant over his fingers, Francis slipped his other hand between Arthur's thigh and calf below his knee and opened his legs wider.

Not knowing what to do with his hands, Arthur hesitantly wrapped his arms around Francis' neck and waited for his fingers.

He closed his eyes once Francis slipped in the first one, but it was instantly followed by the second. Arthur felt him push them in all the way, before he began to stretch them out and thrust them back and forth, Arthur belting out a moan once he pressed against his prostate.

Francis chuckled and leaned down to kiss and lick him on the collarbone as he added another lubricated finger, curling them and pressing them against the walls in attempt to touch Arthur's prostate once more.

Arthur pulled one of his hands down to stroke himself, his breaths coming out in pants. He spread the pre-cum over his head with his fingertips, Arthur twitching as he moved his piercing's ring. Francis pressed his fingers in once more before pulling them out, noticing how Arthur was being impatient.

Francis pushed Arthur's hand away from his arousal, "Don't touch yourself. Let me." Arthur frowned, "I don't care, just fuck me already! I thought you said you were going to." A scowl appeared on Francis' features, "_D'accord._"

Arthur exhaled once Francis moved closer, positioning himself. He began to ease the head in past the tight muscle, before he slowly pressed all the way in, a gasp coming from Arthur from the painful stretch.

"I know it hurts..", Francis murmured, noticing Arthur's pained expression.

"Shut up and m-move, you dolt.", Arthur breathed, digging his nails into Francis' skin to dull the pain – even though it didn't. Francis placed his hands on the seat on both sides of Arthur before he began to rock his hips steadily, Arthur gritting his teeth and clenching his hands on Francis' back.

Each time Francis moved his hips inwards, a gasp came from Arthur. Francis' hair curtained their faces, both of their eyes closed. Arthur didn't say anything, the pain forming into an intense pleasure, his mouth open and slack, no noises coming out as Francis moved his hips. Their skin brushed against each other, creating even more heat and sweat and friction.

The windows already began to fog up from their breathing and the heat from their bodies, the only sounds coming from the stress of the seat after each movement, and the weak, lust filled moans escaping Arthur's lips.

Arthur felt Francis begin to thrust into him harder, Arthur's stomach beginning to ache from their position and the cramped space of the backseat. His heart was hammering in his chest, his lip trembling from Francis' strong thrusts of his hips.

He placed his hands on Francis' chest, opening his eyes once he felt how fast his heart was beating. He lifted his eyes to look at Francis' face, seeing how his eyes were closed, and his lips were in a concentrated frown, his hair matted to his neck and shoulders.

Arthur raised his hand to curl it over the back of Francis' neck and pull his head down enough for him to connect their lips. Arthur watched as Francis opened his eyes to look into his own. Then a smile broke over Francis' lips, before he began to passionately kiss back, Arthur sliding his hand up into his hair as he returned it.

Francis ran his hands down to curl his fingers around the shaft of Arthur's cock and began to stroke it strongly, Arthur pulling his lips away from Francis' to pant. The seat began to stick to Arthur's back uncomfortably from the sweat, but he ignored it, feeling pleasure build in his abdomen.

"Deeper..! More!", Arthur commanded as he wrapped his legs around Francis' waist. Francis began to harshly thrust into him, their skin meeting each time with a slap. Arthur arched his back once Francis pressed against his prostate repeatedly, his eyelids clenching shut.

"Nng! Ah..yes..!", he moaned. Francis leaned down to connect their lips and slide his tongue past Arthur's lips, running it over the other's, feeling the metal of his tongue piercing. He could feel Arthur's lips trembling, and his tongue unresponsive. Francis pulled back to kiss Arthur on the lips, and then the jaw. He continued to stroke Arthur's arousal, occasionally running his thumb over the ring of his piercing, causing Arthur to twitch below him.

Arthur moaned, feeling him press against his prostate once more. He clenched his toes and grit his teeth, feeling pleasure numb his body, before he came onto his stomach and chest.

Francis took hold of Arthur's hips, and quickened his thrusts, trying to reach climax. He felt Arthur clench around him as he rocked his hips, his eyes closing as ecstasy built in his abdomen. He let out a groan as he came, his grip on Arthur's hips tightening.

Their pants filled the car, the windows fogged up. Francis scooted away to sit on other end of the seat, his breaths coming out heavy.

Arthur grit his teeth at the pain in his back and legs from the cramped space. They should have gone up to the apartment. And he also noticed he was still turned on, his cock slightly hard from when Francis continued fucking him after he came. He sighed and ignored it, sitting up with a frown at the pain in his back. He grabbed the towel off the floor of the car and wiped his chest and stomach off before tossing it back onto the floor.

After pulling his shirt and leather jacket on, he looked around for his underwear. Once he found it, he snatched it and yanked it on with difficultly in the cramped space, before grabbing his jeans off the front seat.

He noticed Francis was pulling his sweater on, now fully dressed. Arthur stood, his torso bent over so he could yank his jeans up. He sat down with a heaved sigh, feeling how uncomfortable it was to have his erection secluded within his tight jeans. Once he pulled his boots on, he glanced at Francis, who was watching him.

"Uh, yeah, talk to you later, then.", Arthur said as he stepped past the two front seats and opened the passenger side's door. Francis didn't say anything as he got in the driver's seat. He watched as Arthur got out and shut the door.

Arthur began to walk away towards the stairs, his eyebrows furrowed. Once he made it up the stairs and into his apartment, he closed the door before locking it, and then walked towards his bed to masturbate to the thought of sex with Francis.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a bright sunny day, the sun in the sky with almost no clouds. It was strange, Arthur was used to the gloomy dark. It gave him a headache.

He and Francis were sitting across from each other at the same diner, two days later. Their orders were already sitting before them, Arthur not really touching his. Only small bites. He was distracted by the view past the window. He studied the birds and people walking by, the glow the plants made by the sun, as if the plants were sighing with relief from the beautiful, sunny day.

It was probably the opposite of his feelings and thoughts right now.

"How have you been lately?", he heard Francis ask before taking a drink from his glass of water. Arthur averted his stare to him. He heaved a sigh, "The same as ever." Francis smiled softly.

"Lonely?"

Arthur glared at him before shaking his head, "You twat. I'm not lonely."

"And why is that?"

One of his wide eyebrows arched, Arthur staring at him. It took a minute for him to find the right answer, even if he hated admitting it, "Because you're here." Francis raised his eyes from his plate to Arthur, and then grin and winked.

Arthur watched as the Frenchman lifted a hand to tap him on the nose, making Arthur twitch in surprise. "Ah ha! That is _exactly _why I am here, _Sourcils_. And I am truly ecstatic that you have realized that, even if you are a bit late.", Francis beamed as he pulled his hand back.

Arthur rolled his eyes then took another bite of his food. After chewing slowly, he swallowed and took a drink of his water before returning the glass to the table. He lifted his eyes to Francis, who was looking out the window at the bright sky.

He noticed how the sunlight played on the locks of his long, blonde hair, casting a soft glow to his features. It was odd, something Arthur has never seen before, and he couldn't help but stare. Did he put something in his hair to do that? He had the urge to reach across and run his fingers through some locks but of course he would never do that.

So instead he continued eating in silence. But shortly, Francis asked another question.

"How is your band coming along?"

Arthur frowned. "It's..doing okay.", he lied, taking another bite from his food. Francis stared at him, watching him intently as if he was going to suddenly blurt out the truth. He sighed, "Honestly? How is it _really _going, Arthur?"

"Horribly."

Francis frowned, "I'm sorry. Why is it not going so well?" Arthur raised his eyes to him, "Well, the band is going broke. It costs too much to put on a performance, and we don't get much money in return. Things are going downhill. You know how I can't afford my own food, so you should have assumed this by now."

"Ah, right.", Francis said, then remained silent, staring at his food in thought.

A few more minutes of silence passed, besides Arthur's chewing and the clinking of silverware, until Francis looked up at him once more. "Can I ask something?", he said, keeping his eyes on Arthur, who wasn't paying attention.

A melody of chirping played outside their window, a bird sitting on the bush outside of the window, but Arthur ignored it, raising his eyes from his dish to Francis.

"Sure.", he agreed with a full mouth and then resumed chewing before he swallowed, "But it depends if I'm willing to answer it." Francis nodded before he cleared his throat.

"What was your mother like?"

Arthur froze mid-drink. After a moment, he set his glass down. He eyed Francis, his eyebrows knit together in confusion and suspicion. "Why do you care?", he asked, his voice sharp. Francis smiled, "Because I want to know more about you and your family."

Arthur sighed, "Okay, whatever, but what do you _want _to know?"

"Perhaps her personality, how she treated you, have she was treated, and how she lived her life. And how she comforted you when you were lonesome or scared."

"Alright..", Arthur trailed off, and then thought about it for a bit. "Firstly, it'll be difficult for me to remember, she passed away when I was only seven." Francis nodded in understanding. Arthur paused before opening his mouth to speak.

"She was..kind and gracious. Caring, gentle, _romantic_, very slightly air-headed, strict but with a forgiving tone, and had the smile of the sun.", Arthur explained, a sad smile drifting onto his lips. Francis smiled as well, imaging her perfectly. He had seen photographs of her before. She did have a beautiful smile.

"How she treated me..like any _responsible _mother would. She would protect me from harm, kissed my knee when I scraped it, taught me lessons for school as well as behavior, kept me from any adult themes like violence or sex, and had a good eye for sensing my moods. She always learned, from me, when I had bullies at school.", Arthur laughed lightly, recalling one time how she noticed the smallest bruise on his jaw and how she got Arthur to confess.

But a frown replaced the grin on his lips, "And..she was treated..under-appreciated. She could have done something amazing – even though she has many times – but my father was holding her back." Francis stared at him, listening closer.

Arthur had a mean and sour look on his face, from mentioning his father. "He would leave to work early and come back late only to have dinner and read before going to sleep. He had routine. Anyways, whenever she asked to get a job or to travel or _anything _outside of watching over me and the house, he would refuse and say she doesn't deserve those things."

Francis remained silent, not sure what to think or say. Arthur continued.

"But you didn't ask how my father treated her. Other people, like her friends and local neighbors, loved her. She was the sun breaking through the clouds, to them. Well, because she was kind. And gentle and gracious. Like I said.", he waved his hand dismissively.

"As for how she lived..well she lived watching over me. If not, she was either reading, talking or visiting her friends, cooking, or..sitting in their bedroom alone? I don't know, really. She was quiet besides when she was around other people."

Francis bit on the inside of his cheek softly, knowing what he meant. She was alone. He felt bad for her – and Arthur. But he knew who his father was. Not that he was going to tell Arthur. So he already knew his father was a selfish, and strict father. If not, evil.

He noticed Arthur's pause. "Continue..", he murmured, staring at Arthur's eyes.

"Uh, yeah, well, when she comforted me, she told me 'it's going to be alright' or 'you aren't alone' or something like that. And then she would tell me to take a bath and think or read. Maybe she would hold me as we watched a movie. I don't really remember.", he said hurriedly, looking out the window. Francis hummed, following Arthur's eyes.

There was an awkward atmosphere from the silence.

"Do you have anymore questions?", Arthur asked, returning his eyes to Francis. Francis smiled lightly, "_Non._" Arthur looked down at his hands on the table, "Alright."

Francis noticed Arthur's empty plate. "So, would you like to return home or do you wish to go somewhere else?", he asked as he picked up his fork to finish his own food. Arthur frowned in thought. "Uh..not really, I guess. Do you? I mean, I've been bored recently..", he admitted, lifting his eyes to Francis'.

The Frenchman chuckled as he lifted a fork-full of omelette to his lips. After chewing and swallowing the piece, he smiled at Arthur.

"How about we visit a bookstore?", he said and then took a drink of water.

"What for?"

"I was thinking we could get you a journal. Perhaps, to write your thoughts and feelings into?", Francis mused as he cut off another piece of his omelette before popping it in his mouth. Arthur frowned, "Why? It's a waste of time."

"You have plenty of time, _oui_?"

Arthur huffed, "So that's the only use it has? To take up time?" Francis shook his head, "It records memories, and it relieves stress."

"Stress? You think I have stress?"

"Yes.", Francis answered truthfully. Arthur heaved a sigh, "Alright, fine. But don't think I'll let you read a single page." Francis nodded, "That is what a journal is for; to keep secrets!" Arthur rolled his eyes before taking the last drink of his water. After setting it down, he looked at Francis' empty plate.

"Uh, you done?", Arthur asked impatiently, raising his eyes to Francis' aqua irises. After another nod, Francis took a quick drink of his water before sliding out of the booth. He took out his wallet before placing the money on the table and walking towards the exit, passing tables full of customers.

Arthur quickly got out of his seat and followed, throwing a glance over his shoulder back at the table before catching up to Francis. He slipped his hands into his jean's pockets, his rings pressing into his skin by the tightness of the pockets.

Once they made it out the doors, they made their way to Francis' car across the parking lot. They approached it, Arthur reaching out to open his door and sit down onto the leather seat, Francis getting in beside him.

After shutting the door behind him, Arthur turned to look at Francis. He paused once he noticed Francis leaning across the seats to press his lips to Arthur's strongly – and without warning as usual. Arthur felt him move his lips over his own, his heartbeat increasing. He hesitantly returned the kiss, his hands balled into fists in his lap.

Once he felt Francis prod his lips with his tongue, he pushed him away. "Enough, already. Let's just go.", he growled in annoyance, before crossing his arms and glaring out the windshield. He felt him kiss his cheek, Arthur lifting a hand to push his face away, but Francis was already backing out of the parking space.

* * *

><p>The exterior of the bookstore was incredibly welcoming. It had wide windows where you could see the interior, and the outside walls were a light brown. It had a red canopy over the door and windows, making a shield from the sun and rain. There was a cart of books that were on sale sitting in front of the window, that someone could easily steal from.<p>

Arthur stared at the building, with very little interest, as he got out of the car. Once he shut the door behind him, he began to cross the street, towards the entrance. Francis followed after locking the car, his footsteps quick as he caught up to Arthur who was pulling the door open, a bell ringing.

A woman – with long, wavy light brown hair and hazel eyes – who looked to be in her early twenties was sitting at the desk in the front, a cash register beside her. She looked up from the book in her hands to Arthur and Francis before lowering her gaze down to the book once more.

The inside of the bookstore smelled like wood and peppermint, Arthur flaring his nostrils at the scent. Small bookshelves were lined up on both opposite walls, and a small table was positioned beside the door, a phone resting on it with a pen and notepad next to it.

To Arthur, it seemed like a comfortable place to sit around and read. If he read, that is.

He paced to one side of the store to stand in front of a bookshelf, looking for the journals. Instead, he noticed a magazine rack that had gay (and one that had naked girls but Arthur wasn't really interested in those) pornography magazines. Arthur arched a brow at it. They sold that kind of thing here?

Francis smiled lightly at Arthur, and then approached the girl at the front desk who was reading a book. She had a flower in her hair. Francis cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

She looked up into Francis' eyes, before a smile overtook her lips. "Hey there." He noticed her odd accent, and returned the smile lightly.

"Do you by chance sell journals?"

She nodded, "Yes. They're in the bookshelf in the corner." She motioned towards the small bookshelf near the door, that was indeed, in the corner. Francis forced a bright smile, "Thank you." The girl grinned before she looked back down at her book.

"I noticed your accent..are you from around here?", Francis continued, leaning against the desk. She returned her hazel eyes to his. "Actually, I'm Hungarian..", she said, raising a hand to brush back her long brown hair.

"Ah I see. I'm French.", Francis said lightly before chuckling. She laughed, "And you're with him? He looks British to me. Not really the best combination." Francis chuckled again, "_Oui.._again, thank you. It was nice speaking to you." She smiled brightly, "Yeah, it was."

Francis winked at her before he turned to approach Arthur - who was looking in a magazine behind a bookshelf. And once Francis walked up to him, and looked over his shoulder, he noticed it was a gay pornography magazine.

"Arthur. Let's go pick out a journal for you, yes?", Francis said into his ear, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hm.", Arthur mumbled, ignoring him as he stared at the contents of the magazine. Francis lowered his eyes to the pages, furrowing his eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

The Brit raised his eyes to Francis', "What does it look like?" Francis rolled his eyes, "Come on already, you don't need to look at that."

"Yeah, but I want to."

"We came here to buy you a journal, so put that away and help me choose one out.", Francis said as he yanked the magazine out of his hands and returned it to the magazine rack. "Hey-!", Arthur reached for it, but Francis slapped his hands away.

"Enough.", Francis said as he grabbed Arthur by the arm and pulled him towards the bookshelf with the journals. Arthur grumbled as they approached it, Francis letting him go as he scanned the spines.

"So, which color or design would you like?", he asked with a light smile. Arthur sighed, "Does it matter?"

"_Oui._"

"Ugh.", Arthur groaned as he took out a few journals to look at the covers. Most of them had girly designs or bright colors, making Arthur cringe and crinkle his nose in disgust. He returned the unwanted ones back, which left him with a brown one that had a magnet latch. He clicked it open, Arthur staring at the pages. It seemed plain enough.

Once he shut the journal, the magnet snapped back in place. Arthur raised his eyes to Francis', "This is fine." He noticed that Francis was staring at him with a smile, Arthur remaining silent as he stared back. He felt Francis snake a hand around his waist.

Then he watched as the Frenchman leaned over to press his lips against his own, the bookshelf hiding them. Arthur gripped the journal in his hand and kissed back lightly, closing his eyes. He grabbed Francis on the arm as their lips moved together, but it didn't last long. Francis pulled back and smiled.

Francis noticed that Arthur was looking at him with a blank face, but his eyes were bright and they were fixed on his. It was strange, Francis had never seen him look like that before. Arthur let his arm go.

"Are we buying this or not?", Arthur asked. Francis slid his arm away from his waist, "Yes." Arthur huffed and then turned to walk to the desk where the girl was sitting at. Francis followed behind, then stood beside Arthur as the Brit set the journal in front of the girl.

She closed her book to lift the journal and look at the price, before typing it in the cash register. Francis noticed a little basket that held gel pens. He tapped Arthur on the shoulder and motioned towards it.

"You want one? I'll gladly get it for you."

"No, it's too expensive."

"And?"

"I don't want one. I have a pen at home."

"Why not? Buying new things isn't illegal, you know."

"I know it's not, you idiot-ugh. Fine!"

Arthur grabbed one before smacking it down on the desk, then glared at Francis. The Hungarian girl was watching their argument with a grin, before she typed in the price for the gel pen. She told the total to Francis, the Frenchman taking out his wallet to hand her the money.

"Have a nice day.", she said to Francis as she handed him a small bag that held the journal and pen. He smiled, "You too."

Arthur turned to storm out of the bookstore, the bell ringing loudly once he yanked the door open. Francis turned to follow him.

Once they crossed the street and got into Francis' car, Arthur was glaring out the window. Francis reached over to place the plastic bag in his lap, before he patted him on the shoulder. Arthur knocked the bag onto the floor of the car with a swat of his hand.

Francis laughed, "You are still mad about the pen? Come on, Arthur, imagine it as a gift from me to you."

"I don't _want _a gift from you!"

"And yet, you always insist on me buying you food."

"Hunger isn't the same."

"So you're admitting you don't have enough to pay for your own?

Arthur continued to look out the window, "Who said I don't have enough? I'm just using you to buy me food, just to save me money." Francis chuckled, "Right, right. Let's pretend you didn't say you don't have enough for food at the diner." Arthur turned to scowl at him, "But you like it! You _like _spending time with me!"

"And I do not deny it.", Francis said lightly before he leaned over to peck Arthur on the lips.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at Arthur's apartment, Francis had followed him up the stairs and into his apartment. After he shut the door behind them, he dropped the plastic bag – that held the journal – onto the carpet before he held Arthur's cheeks and pressed their lips together, Arthur backing into the wall beside the door.<p>

Their lips overlapped each other messily as Francis pulled Arthur's jacket off his shoulders before tossing it onto the floor. He ran his hands up Arthur's shirt, feeling his chest and stomach as he continued to kiss him strongly. When Arthur ran out of breath, Francis had slid his shirt over his head.

Arthur slid his hands underneath his shirt and snaked his hands over his skin, feeling the bumps of his chest and the curve of his stomach. Once he took Francis' shirt off, he dropped it to the ground. Then he began working on his jeans.

By the time both of them were bare of clothes, Arthur's legs were wrapped around Francis' waist, Francis holding him up against the wall. Their lips moved together, their hands running over each other's skin. Francis reached around to curl his fingers around the shaft of Arthur's cock and began to stroke it strongly, making Arthur close his eyes and rest the back of his head against the wall.

It was starting to grow hot, Arthur panting as Francis continued to move his fingers along the shaft and head of his arousal. He gasped once he felt Francis snake his hand down to squeeze his ass, Arthur yanking on his hair in return, Francis laughing breathlessly.

"What..about the lube?", Arthur panted, resting a hand on Francis' head as he kissed him on the collarbone. Francis pulled back to smile, "Oh. Right."

Francis held onto Arthur – the Brit's legs still around him – as he turned to walk to the bed, Arthur wrapping his arms around his neck.

"You moron, put me down!"

Francis ignored him as he leaned down over the bed to rest Arthur down on the covers, Arthur scowling up at him. Francis crawled over him before he kissed him on the lips. Arthur reached up to slip his hands into Francis' hair as he closed his eyes and returned the kiss. He felt Francis' hands run over his chest, Arthur smiling at the feeling of the warmth.

Francis reached up to hold his cheeks in his hands as he passionately moved his lips over Arthur's, feeling how Arthur was smiling. He was shocked he was smiling but he continued to kiss him, brushing his cheek repeatedly with his thumb.

He pulled back to inhale, opening his eyes to look at Arthur as he moved his hand to place it over his heart, feeling how fast it was beating. He smiled once Arthur opened his eyes. Arthur looked up at him strangely. Not like a strange expression, but Francis hadn't seen him make a face like that before. Like in the bookstore.

Arthur placed his hand over Francis' on his chest, his eyes fixed on Francis' aqua irises.

Francis laughed lightly, "You are acting different Arthur. Why are you looking at me like that?" Arthur averted his eyes and pulled his hand away, "I don't know." Francis dropped his smile before he leaned down to kiss Arthur on the cheek. "It's okay."

Then he began to press his lips to his collarbone, neck, and shoulder. He ran a hand down to curl his fingers around the base of Arthur's arousal, and began to run his hand up and down slowly. He slid his other hand up Arthur's chest and rubbed his thumb over one of his nipples.

Francis returned his lips to Arthur's lightly, closing his eyes. He felt Arthur kiss back. But Francis noticed how his lips grew still. He pulled back to see Arthur looking away.

"What's the matter? Do you want me to stop?", Francis asked, stopping his hand on Arthur's arousal. Arthur flickered his eyes to Francis', "No. Just..stop talking." Francis smiled and continued to move his fingers, "Alright."

So he began to press his lips to Arthur's skin once more, occasionally sucking on the skin to leave a mark, Arthur being silent all the while as he panted lightly, his hand resting on Francis' back.

Francis pulled back to look at Arthur as he licked his lips, staring at how his face was flushed and his skin was dotted with the marks he made. He leaned down to connect their lips strongly before he took out the lubricant bottle from the nightstand, and spread some over his fingers.

Arthur, glad that Francis finally finished with the pointless kissing, opened his legs, watching Francis with impatient eyes. Francis noticed his expression, and smiled lightly. He continued to stroke Arthur's cock as he pushed a lubricated finger past the ring of tight muscle, and then instantly added a second.

A concentrated frown spread over Arthur's lips at the odd feeling, his eyebrows curving downwards. Francis leaned down to kiss him between the eyebrows, and began to move his fingers. He pressed them in and spread them out, Francis feeling how hot it was inside of him.

Arthur tried to keep a straight face, but whenever Francis pushed his fingers in, his eyes would close and his mouth would open slightly. He bit on his bottom lip once Francis brushed against his prostate.

He could feel Francis kissing his forehead and just basically his _skin_, and it annoyed him because it felt hot and it felt good, but he would never say that. And he also felt different. This time, he paid attention to small details. He could feel the softness of the new bed below him and the heat coming from Francis and that he had another human being with him inside his apartment that was usually only filled with one person.

He also realized that he wasn't here by himself, Francis actually took time away from his own life to spend time with Arthur. To comfort him – even though Arthur got headaches from talking with Francis – and to care for him. It was all just irritating to Arthur, but maybe things would be worse if Francis _had _listened to him and just left him alone.

Arthur felt a dreading feeling twisting inside his stomach, and he didn't like it. So instead he ignored it, and reached up to hold Francis' cheeks in his hands and kissed him on the lips.

Francis pulled his fingers out as he pressed his lips back against Arthur's, but pulled back and looked at Arthur.

"Can..you get on your stomach?", Francis asked. Arthur's cheeks flushed a little darker but he did as he was asked, and turned over onto his stomach. His hips were raised slightly, waiting for Francis.

Once Francis spread lubricant over his erection, he crawled over Arthur and reached down to guide the head of his arousal into Arthur's entrance. Arthur gripped the pillow in his hands as Francis eased in slowly. A small noise sounded in the back of his throat once he pushed in all the way, their skin connecting.

Francis began to move his hips, pulling back before slowly pushing back in. Arthur hid his face in the pillow, feeling Francis' hands run over his sides as he rocked his hips rhythmically.

Arthur clenched his eyes shut and moved his hands to clench the blanket in his hands, feeling a slight pain each time Francis moved his hips inwards, his eyebrows furrowing. He felt Francis speed his movement, Arthur clenching his teeth.

He ran out of breath from the pillow, so he turned his head to the side, growing embarrassed from Francis being able to see his expression, even though there was no reason to be. He felt Francis place his hands on his on the blanket, threading their fingers together.

Arthur bit on his bottom lip but tightened his fingers around Francis', not really bothered by the warmth.

He could feel Francis rock his hips at a faster pace, emitting a weak moan from Arthur's lips. That only encouraged Francis to kiss him on the shoulder and nape of the neck, Arthur feeling his ears start to burn from embarrassment.

It was strange, he knew he was acting different. He usually wouldn't care if he was exposed like this, but today he felt completely different. Now whenever Francis touched him in a way or kissed him strongly, his legs or hands would grow weak and blood would rush up into his cheeks. It was totally out of character for his image, and he was growing mad – and confused.

Each time Francis pushed in all the way, Arthur let out a groan, his eyes closing and his fingers tightened around Francis'. And Francis noticed, so he whispered in his ear, "Does this feel good?" Arthur clenched his toes and weakly nodded, feeling Francis brush against his prostate each time.

Francis chuckled breathlessly, "I agree." Arthur wanted to hit him but instead he let out another moan, feeling pleasure build in his abdomen.

The fluid rocking of Francis' hips grew stronger, Arthur's mouth going slack. He felt Francis rest his forehead on the back of his head as he moved his hips, pants beginning to come from him.

Arthur's hips and legs began to ache from having to hold his waist up, and Francis' constant thrusts weren't helping. But he wasn't going to last much longer.

And since Francis pulled one of his hands away to begin stroking his arousal, it was going to end much sooner.

A stressed moan came from Arthur as he felt pleasure build up, making him want to climax. He began to push back into Francis' thrusts, wanting to finish. As Francis ran his fingers over the shaft and head of his erection and rocked his hips harshly, Arthur let out a groan as he came onto the blanket, his fingers tightening around Francis'.

And following almost instantly, Francis released into him.

Arthur could only feel heat and the exhaustion of orgasm, his eyes closed. He felt Francis pull out and lay down by his side, his panting reminding Arthur to let out a breath he was supposedly holding in. Arthur continued to lay on his stomach, letting go of Francis' hand, as he relaxed his hips, hiding his face in the pillow. He didn't want to move. Or see Francis.

Instead, he remained silent, feeling his heart beating against his chest and the sweat on his skin. He crinkled his nose once he felt Francis slide an arm around him, his thumb stroking his skin lovingly.

Annoyed (even though it made his heartbeat start to accelerate again), he pulled away to sit on the side of the bed, facing away from Francis. He raised a hand and ran it through his hair, and exhaled. He was glad Francis was remaining silent.

He reached over to grab a cigarette pack and flip it open, then took out a cigarette. Once he dug around in the nightstand for a lighter and found one, he lit up the end.

"This isn't really the best time to have one, Arthur.", Francis commented, breaking the silence. Arthur inhaled deeply as he returned the lighter to the drawer. Once he blew the smoke out, he rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you know it's not just because I had sex with you."

"I was joking, _cher._"

"Mh.", Arthur mumbled as he had another intake of the cigarette. He stood to search for clothes to put on, and located the sweater Francis had added to his wardrobe. Once he slipped it on, he sat back down on the bed, feeling too lazy to find his underwear.

He heard Francis scoot closer and sneak an arm around his waist. Francis began kissing him on the back of the neck and the head, until Arthur grew annoyed. "Stop it."

"_Non_."

Arthur growled before he pushed off the bed, Francis' arms dropping from his waist. "I said knock it off!" Francis furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

Arthur flared his nostrils, feeling anger bubble inside him. "Stop...touching me! I don't want you to!" Francis looked at Arthur in confusion, "Why are you acting like this?"

"Don't _fucking _ask me that! I'm tired of your bullshit, you-"

"You what? What am I, Arthur?"

Arthur growled at him and felt his cheeks flush with anger, "You bastard! Stop acting like this!" Francis pushed off the bed and stood in front of Arthur, not caring he was bare of clothes, "Shouldn't I be telling you that?"

"No! _I'm _not the one who's acting like that! You're acting like you're fucking in love with me!", Arthur shouted at him, baring his teeth. He noticed how Francis glared at him.

"At least I'm the one who's being honest here. You don't even listen to what your feelings have to say. I doubt you've ever even been in love before."

Arthur felt like punching him across the face but held back the urge. Instead, he pushed Francis, the Frenchman not even stumbling backwards, instead he continued to frown at Arthur.

"I don't love you! I could _never _love you!"

"You'll regret saying that."

"No! I won't! You're a bloody _bastard_! I _hate _you and I'll never love you! Why can't you just accept that fact?"

"You're such a spoiled brat. Always thinking about yourself and always shelling yourself away from other people, too afraid to be _hurt. _But you are completely content to hurt others apparently."

Arthur lifted a fist as if to bring it down on Francis' face, his eyes widening with anger. Francis only stared at his raised fist. But, Arthur didn't move it. In fact, he froze up, not sure what to do. He knew Francis was right and it _pissed _him off but he didn't want to hurt him physically. So, he lowered his fist and looked away from Francis.

"Get out, you prick, you shouldn't be here. You never should have bothered me."

After he said that, Francis got dressed as Arthur stood there, his eyes fixed on the ground. Once Francis approached the door fully clothed, he didn't open the door. He stood there for a few seconds with furrowed eyebrows before he turned to face Arthur.

"Maybe it's a good thing your mother died. Not having to deal with a selfish person like you.", Francis spat, watching as Arthur looked at him with a completely shocked expression. He saw how his eyes softened with a pang of hurt, Francis feeling his heart clench and instantly regretted he said that.

Knowing it was too late to take it back, he yanked open the door before walking out and shutting it behind him, his lips in a tight frown, his eyes lowered.

Arthur stared at the door with a completely devastated expression, not sure what to think. Why did he say that? _How _could he say that? Arthur felt the hurt inside bubble into rage, his eyebrows furrowing with anger. He grit his teeth before he let out a yell and knocked down the nightstand, spilling the contents of the drawer onto the floor, the books and cigarettes as well as the alarm clock falling to join the other objects.

Then he hooked his hands underneath the bed and used his strength to upturn it, the blankets and pillows falling before becoming pinned underneath the mattress and bed frame. Arthur was panting as he grabbed his guitar off the wall and raised it above his head, but then he paused.

He stood there with his guitar above his head, but when his arms grew tired of holding the heavy guitar up, he closed his eyes before lowering the guitar back down.

He didn't know what to do at the moment, standing in his mess he made. _Another _mess he made. He stared at his guitar with a blank look. Why would Francis say that? Wasn't he more..caring? Didn't he care what he felt? But now that he thinks about it..he never really considered _his _feelings..

What_ were_ Francis' feelings? Was it really obvious, and he was being oblivious to them?

Arthur sighed, feeling his chest knot up. His bottom lip began to tremble slightly as he sat down on the floor, and hid his face in his hands. How did this happen? Why did he always cause problems? A sob escaped him.

'_I'm such a horrible person.._', Arthur thought before a few more sobs came from him, a tear escaping and rolled down his cheek. '_Francis was right..I am selfish._'

Then he began to cry, tears sliding down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking.

* * *

><p>He sat there for a few hours, just thinking. He tried to think of a way he could fix this, to just go back to how things were, but he had no ideas. Why should it go back anyways? He didn't want Francis to bother him in the first place! If things were to go back to normal – which they probably won't – Francis would have to make the first step to making up.<p>

Not that Arthur even cared if he did or not. He just wanted to be left alone. Well, that's what he convinced himself anyways.

After growing annoyed of his backside going numb from sitting on the hard floor, he stood up, feeling pain shoot through his legs. He cursed in his head as he rubbed his butt from the numb feeling, furrowing his eyebrows. His eyes hurt. They ached and he wanted to _sleep_ but his bed was still upside down.

Might as well clean the place back up. Which surprised Arthur, seeing as he usually didn't even care.

He approached the pile of objects from the drawer of the nightstand, and bent down to pick up the lubricant bottle, the condoms, the lighter, and some other various items such as pens, cigarette buds and notepads.

He paused once he picked up the folded notes from Francis, his eyes fixed on them. He wanted to rip them up for good, but he felt like he should keep them, for whatever reason. He sighed as he pulled the nightstand back up, before he returned the items into the drawer.

Once he placed the books and alarm clock back on the top, he bent down to pick up the cigarette packs that Francis had bought him. Now that he thought about it, Francis had gotten him a lot of things. Food, clothes, beer and cigarettes, a new bed, his journal and pen...as well as company. And he also cleaned his apartment. Great, now he kept thinking about Francis.

It was a pain to set up his bed again, but once he brought the bed frame back onto it's legs and pulled the mattress on and made the covers, it was back to normal. Except, he noticed the dried stains on the blanket from earlier. He'll deal with that later.

Now that everything was in order (besides him and Francis of course), he finally could get some rest. He turned to walk to the door and turn off the light, but before he flipped the lightswitch down, he noticed the plastic bag at his feet.

He bent down to grab it and looked inside, realizing it was the journal and the pen. Instead of throwing it at the wall, he walked back to the bed and sat down.

Not sure what he was doing, he took out the journal and pen before he opened it to the first, blank page.

He stared at the blank lines, pen in hand, not sure what to write. So, he wrote '_I don't know what to say._' and then wrote the date in the corner. Then he snapped it shut and placed it on the nightstand with the pen.

Still wearing only the sweater Francis bought him, he crossed the room and turned the light off, before returning to the newly made bed. He slipped underneath the covers with a sigh, finally closing his tired eyes.

* * *

><p>Is it just me or are things moving too fast?<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

When Arthur woke the next morning, he was in no mood to move at all. Curled underneath the covers on his side, he glared at the wall hugging the bed. He already was starting to get a headache, but at least his eyes weren't sore anymore.

So, he closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to go back to sleep.

Once he slept for another three hours, he woke up to the sounds of birds chirping outside the window, sunlight pouring into the room. Which annoyed him to no end.

After staring at the wall for a few minutes in silence, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling tired from sleeping in so late. Still feeling drowsy, he slid the blanket off and stood from the bed. He realized the only thing he had on was Francis' sweater that he bought him. Once he pulled on a pair of underwear, he sluggishly walked to the light switch to flip it on.

He paused once his foot bumped something, Arthur glancing down to see a box, that was the size of a thick dictionary, sitting in front of the door. It had a sticky note on it. Oh that's right, Francis still had one of his apartment keys. Why did he come back?

Arthur growled and crouched down to glare at the box. He snatched the sticky note and read the cursive words: '_I thought you might need this. My contact is already inside, and if you wish to delete it, do so. Don't worry about the bills, I have it covered. And the money is for food. -Francis'_

After arching a brow, he placed the note aside before he ripped off the tape and opened the box, seeing a cell phone wrapped in plastic inside. Beside it was a roll of money.

"What the fuck..", Arthur mumbled as he lifted the money out, counting it. He set the money down and took the phone out. He ripped off the plastic, then flipped it open to see a new text message. Once he figured out how to work the number pad, he opened up the text and read the words. '_Take care, Sourcils._'

He frowned, not sure what to think. He wasn't exactly sure if he should be thankful or mad. But it _did _help..

* * *

><p>Francis stared out the window at his side, studying the clouds and the view of the water below. He sat in the first class of a plane heading towards Paris, his elbow propped up on the armchair, his chin in his palm.<p>

It was nice sitting by himself, not having to deal with the troubles of other passengers, but he still felt mad, at himself. He couldn't believe he said something as horrible as he did, but he couldn't do anything about it.

He wondered if Arthur was okay. He missed him. Even if Arthur was stubborn and oblivious, he wished for his company. If he didn't have to return to Paris for his mother, he would go back and apologize. If Arthur accepted his apology, which wasn't likely, they could possibly go back to normal.

Just then, a woman announced the landing of the plane. Francis sighed and sat back to buckle his seat belt, anxious to be back in Paris.

After two more hours, the plane had landed and Francis was able to leave the plane without being interrupted. It was a pain to find his single bag of luggage, but once he had found it and made it out of the airport after calling a taxi company, he was relieved to see the buildings he recognized. And not the gloomy streets of London.

Within only twenty minutes, the taxi arrived for Francis, the Frenchman walking to the car and opening the door. He placed his bag on the seat before getting in, slamming the door shut behind him. After telling the driver his mother's address, he remained silent as he stared out the window in thought, his legs and arms crossed.

The only reason he was back in Paris, was for his mother. It was urgent to get back as soon as possible, seeing as she was ill. Francis was worried for her, but his father was even more. Even if his mother wasn't too fond of him, he still loved her.

It was difficult to be in two places at once. It was important to watch after his mother when his father had work, but it was also important to give Arthur company. To him, anyways. He knew what it was like to be alone, and he knew it wasn't the most pleasant thing.

By the time the taxi pulled up to his parent's manor, his thoughts had returned to Arthur. Once the vehicle slowed to a stop, Francis snapped out of his thoughts and gathered his coat and suitcase. He handed the taxi driver the fare before he stepped out of the car, and shut the door behind him.

He looked up at the interior as he walked up the driveway, his eyes drifting over the wide building. His footsteps repeated as he approached the front door, Francis standing in front of it as he raised a fist to tap on the wood a few times.

After a moment, he heard the door unlock and slide open, revealing the manor's maid. "_Bonjour, _Maria.", he greeted, forcing a smile. She nodded and stepped aside to let him in. Francis walked past her, hearing her quietly click the door shut behind him.

He glanced at the interior, expensive looking furniture decorating the lobby. All too familiar with the presentation of the manor, he paced past it to the wide stairs.

"Ah, Mr. Bonnefoy, may I take your luggage?", Maria asked in French, following behind him, her heels clicking. Francis glanced back and smiled again, "Yes." He slipped the handle of his suitcase into her smaller hand, Maria reaching out to take his coat as well. Francis hummed before he turned to walk up the stairs towards his mother's room.

It was silent, as usual, Francis not bothering to admire the paintings as he walked down the corridor to the door to his mother's room. He paused in front of it, straining his ears to hear any sign of her consciousness. And, he did hear soft breathing. So, he quietly knocked a few times on her door.

"Come in.", she said drowsily in French, Francis turning the knob and pushing into the room, smiling brightly at her. She was laying on her bed, a book in her hands. Her long blonde hair was tied back into a braid, a ribbon decorating her hair, as done by Maria perhaps.

"Hello mother.", Francis said as he shut the door behind him and approached the bed. "Hmm? Francis, what are you doing here?", she asked in a tone which implied her not wanting his acquaintance. Francis' smile softened, "I came to visit you. As I have been recently."

"Why don't you just save some money and stay in Paris?"

"I..had some other business to attend to.", Francis said as he sat down on a chair beside the bed.

"Like what—that boy, Arthur?", she demanded, bookmarking her place before snapping her book shut. She raised her light brown eyes to Francis with a frown on her lips. Francis remained silent, staring at the design of the blanket.

His mother sighed, "I told you, you shouldn't be near Mr. Kirkland's son. What if he finds out? He'll go to your father and complain. Just because we used to be affiliates with Mr. Kirkland's company does not mean we are anymore. That does not give you any right to interfere with his personal family."

"But it's not-"

"How _dare _you talk back to me?", she snapped, getting Francis to raise his eyes to hers. Francis kept his face straight, "Yes, I apologize, mother."

"Now, if you came here to bother me, then why come? You're just a burden and I do not need your assistance with my health. There are plenty of maids and butlers or whoever to watch over me instead of _you_. And look, now I'm worn out and-", she started coughing, Francis raising his hands to place them on her arms, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

He was about to get up to get water, but she stopped and slapped his hands off her. "I'm fine." Francis placed his hands in his lap, frowning, his eyes downcast. His mother sighed and then placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Stop looking so beautiful, you make me look bad.", she murmured and then began running her fingers through his blonde locks. Francis smiled lightly, "I can't help it." She chuckled and then sighed longingly, "I wish your father was here. He doesn't go running off to play around with some British boy, but he does get caught up in his work."

Francis felt his heart jump, but he should have known she had assumed what was going on. He didn't feel ashamed though, but proud that he wouldn't allow being held down by a leash by his father's company, not allowing him to leave France or even see Arthur. Only his mother knew, and now that he realized it, she hadn't told his father. Yet.

Once she grew bored of playing with his hair, she held his cheek in her hand. "Are you in love with him?", she asked lightly, making Francis raise his aqua eyes to hers. Francis paused. Not wanting to lie, he nodded.

"Yes."

His mother patted him on the cheek before resting her hand on the blanket. "I'm against you being in love with a _man_, seeing as you won't be able to continue the Bonnefoy line, but if it's who you love, it's who you love. I can't force you." Francis smiled and raised his eyebrows, surprised she had said that. He knew she wasn't okay with him being in love with another man, and it being Mr. Kirkland's _son_, but it relieved him that she knew she couldn't really change anything about it.

"I..don't know what to say.", he admitted, noticing how she was watching him with weary eyes. Her lips twitched into a light smile, "That's alright." Francis nodded before he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. She laughed lightly before letting out a cough, "Can I ask something from you?" Francis nodded again.

"Can you stay for awhile? Surely you can let Arthur be, I'm sure he prefers being alone, being the spoiled brat of a child he was."

Francis remained silent as he thought about it. With what just happened between them, it would be best to let Arthur cool down. "Of course."

* * *

><p>After Arthur grew bored of fiddling with his new cell phone, he set it down on the nightstand beside the books. He then stared at the money with a blank look, not sure if he liked the fact Francis just handed it over.<p>

He sighed and flopped down on the pillow, pulling the comforter above his head. He closed his eyes and thought of his mother, imagining her soft hands and the way they ran through his hair and the ecstatic expression she made when Arthur returned from school. But the thought of his mother reminded him of what Francis said, making Arthur scowl.

Once he pushed the reminder away, he remained silent. Now he was bored. So he tried to think of something to do.

He wasn't in the mood for playing his guitar, and there was no practice today. He could read the library books he checked out but, now they've grown boring. Maybe he could return them. But getting out of bed didn't sound to great. He glanced at the clock.

1:25 p.m.

Sighing, Arthur rolled over, stepping off the bed. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. His legs ached, not wanting to support his weight.

Once he lazily got dressed into a lazy outfit – a striped long sleeved t-shirt and a random pair of skinny jeans, including his red leather jacket – and yanked on his boots, he grabbed the books and money off the nightstand.

The warm, but slightly chilly, air greeted him once he opened the door to his apartment, Arthur glaring at the sun that was curtained by clouds. It was one of those days where the sun was out, but the after effect of the rain from the previous night remained.

He inhaled the crisp air, feeling more awake. Then he paused.

Now, he didn't have to worry about Francis. Now that he was gone, hopefully, for good, he could finally get more practice in and he could possibly get a part-time job. And he didn't have to care anymore. He could go back to how things were. Without Francis.

His lips twitched as he turned to lock the door. Once he straightened out his jacket, he walked down the balcony before making his way down the stairs. He noticed the pavement was still wet from the rain the night before, a familiar smell of the rain remaining.

His footsteps repeated as he passed the parking lot, walking onto the sidewalk in the direction of the library, books in hand. He felt odd, not sure why he left his apartment. He didn't _have _to give the books back...he could just throw them away and save him from walking.

But, he wanted to leave. He wanted to do something besides sleeping or staring at the ceiling, thinking of that blasted Frenchman. So, why not distract himself?

Satisfied with his decision, he quickened his footsteps. The sun hung in the sky, casting a warm, fuzzy feeling over Arthur. Within a minute, he was deeper downtown, more people constantly passing him on the sidewalk, not bothering to throw him a judging glance.

His leather on his jacket began to heat up, Arthur growing hot. He slipped it off, revealing the long sleeved t-shirt he wore. He slung it over his shoulder as he continued walking, glancing at a woman who passed with a large dog by her side.

She looked at him and then smiled flirtatiously, Arthur's scowling before he sped up, gaining more distance between them. Another reason why he hated going out. People either judged him, or flirted with him. And he hated both.

He noticed he was closer, only a few streets away. He was walking down a long sidewalk that was lined with small shops. Like bakeries, drug stores, antique stores, and bookstores. He glanced past the windows of the stores, looking at the interiors and the people inside.

He absentmindedly fiddled with his rings on his fingers, his lips in a slight frown. Once he glanced back up, he recognized the interior to a specific bookstore, Arthur slowing to a stop before he backed up.

Past the large window, a woman with long brown hair sat at a desk, a flower in her hair. She was that cashier from yesterday. Arthur stared before he walked towards the door that was beneath the canopy, reaching out to grab the handle and pull it open, for no particular reason. The same little chime of the bell rang.

Not sure what he was doing, he paced inside, feeling the coolness of the air conditioner brush over his neck and arms. The woman looked up from her book at Arthur. It took her a moment for her to recognize him, a bright smile breaking over her lips.

"Oh! It's you!", she broke the silence, making Arthur feel uneasy. Arthur bit on the inside of his cheek, "Uh, yeah." She continued to smile as Arthur walked up to the desk. "Can I help you with anything?", she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Arthur's bottle green irises.

Arthur remained silent in thought, not sure why he was here. He opened his mouth to say something he wasn't so sure of, "Not really, I just came to browse for books.." She nodded, "Right.." Arthur noticed her eyebrows raise slightly, her eyes flickering to the door past his shoulder.

"Where's your friend?"

Arthur blinked, "Who?"

"Y'know...your French friend? Is he your boyfriend?", she began. Arthur's heart jumped, "What? You mean-_no_, he is not my boyfriend. And he's not my friend."

She nodded slowly, "Alright...just tell me if you need assistance." Arthur blushed lightly. Now he felt awkward. He turned to walk to a random bookshelf, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment. After calming down, he raised his eyes to the spines of the books, realizing it was books on languages.

Spanish, German, Korean, Greek, Italian, and..French. Arthur stared at the thick book, it's spine reading 'French for Beginners'. Annoyed, he reached up to slide the book out, curiosity urging him to crack the book open.

The random page he opened to was for facial features. He looked at the face of a woman, her face blank. Then he read the list of French words, arrows pointing to the features it was naming.

_Yeux _for eyes, _lèvres_for lips, _nez_for nose, and _Sourcils_ for eyebrows. He mouthed _Sourcils_. He turned the page, scanning the English translation. Most of these were phrases like 'kiss me' or 'hold me' and the like. He recalled Francis saying '_embrasse-moi'_ in the car that one time. He bit on his bottom lip, glancing at the other phrases.

He paused, reading the English and French translations for 'make love to me'. He raised his eyebrows. But then he scowled, telling himself he should have known that that would be in a book for French.

He closed the book before returning it to the shelf. He turned and walked towards the door. "Have a nice evening, sir.", he heard the woman say with a chuckle. Arthur turned and forced a smile, "My name's Arthur."

"Have a nice evening, Arthur.", she corrected herself, a grin spreading over her lips. Arthur tightened his smile at her before walking out. Why did he even go in?

* * *

><p>The soft ticking of the clock made Francis drowsy, the Frenchman fighting to keep his eyelids up. His legs had begun to ache from sitting in the same spot for almost two hours, Francis worn out from just sitting at the side of the bed, watching his mother.<p>

Strangely, she asked him to stay at her side. Francis assumed she didn't want to be alone, so he stayed. They had talked occasionally, but his mother eventually mumbled a 'be quiet' and drifted off to sleep. After she fell asleep, Francis remained at her side for another ten minutes.

But now his back began to hurt. Making sure she wasn't going to wake up and snap at him, Francis quietly stood and rolled his shoulders. He felt a muscle pull slightly, a quiet 'ow' coming from him. Once he left the room, he softly closed the door behind him.

He leaned against the door and exhaled, closing his eyes. Then he began walking towards the staircase, once again ignoring the paintings decorating the corridor's walls. He approached the top of the stairs, and placed a hand on the railing as he quietly walked down, the bottom of his shoes padding softly against the carpet.

He heard the distant tapping of heels coming from the direction of the kitchen, Francis making his way down the staircase before walking towards the sound. He pushed open the door to the kitchen, Francis seeing Maria wiping the large stove with a hand cloth. Everything – as remembered – was very high quality kitchen appliances.

Francis cleared his throat, Maria raising her head to glance at him. "_Bonjour, monsieur_.", she said in a blank voice. Francis nodded then glanced at the clock on the far wall. "Isn't it a bit late to be cleaning at this hour?", he mused in French. Maria blinked, ".._N-Non?_" Francis smiled.

"Now now, please get some rest. I can take over if you insist on cleaning 'til morning."

Maria shook her head harshly, "It's my duty to. I can't allow Mrs. Bonnefoy's son to do my work. I'll get fired." Francis continued to smile. "Who said she'll know? She's bedridden, is she not? And, please, I will gladly do it for you."

Maria opened her mouth to object but Francis cut her off. "I insist." Maria looked at him warily, her fingers tightening on the hand cloth in her palm. She continued to stand there with a stubborn look. Then she exhaled and nodded. Her heels clicked as she approached him and held the cloth out for Francis to take.

Francis took it from her and smiled reassuringly, Maria forcing a tired smile before she walked past him out the door. He dropped the smile once she left, an exhale escaping him.

He didn't mind cleaning after her, but he was exhausted from the plane ride and the argument with Arthur and how his mother was cranky as ever. Once he unbuttoned the jacket to his suit, he draped it over the table at the far end of the kitchen.

He unbuttoned the cuffs to his dress shirt before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his arm hair. He tied back his slightly curled locks, letting his bangs frame his face. Francis huffed and then turned to walk to the stove Maria was previously scrubbing.

Once he located the cleaning bleach and mixed some into the cloth, he began to wipe the stove's burners, attempting to get the small burn marks off.

About an hour passed while Francis was cleaning, all the while his thoughts filled with his days with Arthur. Once he swiped the cloth over one of the wide counters one last time, he pulled back and sighed, his back aching and his head hurting from the smell of the bleach.

With slow movements, he rinsed the cloth and returned it to it's spot in a drawer before he pulled his sleeves back down and released his hair from it's binds. Glancing back at the clock, he realized it was almost an hour past midnight.

After grabbing his suit's jacket, he made his way out of the kitchen and up the staircase. His footsteps quietly repeated, the floorboards occasionally creaking in protest below him. Once he walked up to the guest room meant for him, he reached out to open the door.

He walked in and quietly shut the door behind him, noticing his suitcase was sitting at the foot of the bed. He walked towards the desk positioned against the east wall, placing his jacket on it without caring to hang it up.

He quickly changed into his sleepwear – sweatpants and a fleece sweater – and then took his toothbrush and toothpaste from his suitcase before walking into the guest room's bathroom. After brushing his teeth and relieving his bladder, he returned to the bedroom.

With a appreciative sigh, he slipped underneath the thick comforter. He laid on his side, tightening the blanket around his frame. The instant he closed his eyes, he began to imagine Arthur by his side. Another sigh blew from him.

He imagined Arthur hugging close to him, his arm draped over his waist, and perhaps a leg resting over his own. A small smile drifted over his lips, Francis wishing with all his heart that it could be that way.

Did Arthur?

* * *

><p>Francis awoke early the next morning to Maria's voice telling him breakfast was waiting for him in the dining room. Francis rubbed his eyes as he sat up, his eyelids heavy. After glancing at the clock on the opposite wall of the bed, he realized he only slept for six hours.<p>

After getting up and taking a _long_,needed, hot shower, he quickly got dressed into a casual – but presentable – apparel and messily styled his hair. Knowing his breakfast was already cold, he hurriedly brushed his teeth and made his way out into the corridor and down the staircase.

He walked into the dining room, seeing Maria standing at the end of the dining room table, her hands folded over the front of her skirt. Francis smiled and said hello before walking to the seat that had a plate of food sitting before it.

Once he sat down, he lifted a fork but before he began eating, he noticed Maria was watching him. He raised his eyes to her, "_Quoi?_"

"Mrs. Bonnefoy wishes to speak with you afterwards."

Francis paused before he nodded, "_D'accord_." Then Maria walked past him into the kitchen to clean up the mess of preparing breakfast. Francis frowned, not really liking the sound of that.

After quickly eating his cold breakfast, he pushed his chair out and walked out to the lobby and up the staircase. Once he walked into the corridor, he finally took the time to admire the paintings, stalling from having to see his mother. After five minutes of staring at a painting of flowers, he sighed and flattened his hair out before walking to his mother's door.

He knocked a few times, waiting for his mother's approval for entrance. He heard a 'come in', Francis nibbling on his bottom lip before he pushed the door open and paced into the room. After quietly shutting the door behind him, he looked at his mother who was sitting up against the headboard, her hands resting over each other on the blanket.

"Francis."

"Yes?"

"Sit."

Francis nodded silently and sat down on the same chair as he did last night. His mother was looking at him with stern eyes, Francis furrowing his eyebrows.

"Let me make this clear as I can; I don't want you seeing Mr. Kirkland's son anymore."

Francis' simply nodded as if he was agreeing. "And why is that?"

"You know why."

"Hm."

"Will you obey your mother, Francis?"

Francis smiled. "Of course.", he lied through his teeth. His mother eyed him but then smiled lightly as she pat him on the shoulder, "Good. You're excused."

* * *

><p>Each time Arthur glanced at the alarm clock, he scowled at how only a minute had passed. He was laying on his bed with his knees up, his eyes following the design on the ceiling. Yesterday, he had returned the books to the library without bumping into Michelle, and afterward he ate at the same restaurant he and Francis visited.<p>

Today, it was raining again. Arthur listened to the patter of the rain on the apartment building. But it wasn't a light drizzle, it was pouring rain. So Arthur was stuck in the apartment, unless he wanted to get wet.

The whole time he's been staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain, he kept thinking about Francis. Even though he hated to, he wondered if he was back in France. Did he actually grow tired of him? If he did, fine! He didn't need Francis. And after what Francis said, it seemed like he didn't either.

Arthur placed his hands on his stomach, and rocked his knees side to side. He actually liked the sound of rain. It usually helped him fall asleep late at night. But it wasn't late. It was only five p.m.

So he couldn't sleep. And it didn't really help that he was horny again. Arthur heaved a sigh and rolled onto his side, staring at the wall. He looked at the white paint with a zoned out look, until he closed his eyes. He thought of Francis again.

Of his long, blonde hair that he was jealous of, and his deep blue eyes. He also imagined his hands, that would touch his skin and hold his face as they kissed. And then he thought of his lips, that would press kisses along his body and suck on his neck to leave a mark that Arthur wasn't too ashamed of. He would like to get those lips to part and let out suggestive noises-

Arthur opened his eyes. He noticed, with annoyance, he was slightly hard. But he ignored it and glanced back at the alarm clock. Only ten minutes passed. He ruffled his hair with his hands in irritation and stood. He was tired of just laying around.

So he threw on his jacket and yanked on his boots before he approached the door and pulled it open, the sound of heavy rain becoming more pronounced. Arthur walked out, the canopy of the balcony protecting him from the rain, before he shut the door and locked it behind him. He turned and looked out past the balcony, his eyes running over the shower of rain and the soaked roads and dripping exteriors of buildings.

He only saw one person walking down the sidewalk with an umbrella, and a few cars pass, their windshield wipers moving feverishly back and forth to swat away the rain. He inhaled the smell of rain, and then walked down the balcony before making his way down the stairs, quickly getting soaked by the downpour.

Actually glad that the cold of the rain distracted him, he began pacing down the sidewalk, in the direction to the football field. The rain pattered all around him, little drops of liquid falling off his locks, his hair matting down to frame his face.

He slid his hands into his pockets and quickened his feet, his eyes looking ahead. He could only see a few meters in front of him, the mist of the rain covering his view. But he could see enough to know where he was going.

By now, he was smiling. A sincere smile replaced his frown, Arthur for once in a long time, happy to be in the rain. He loved the rain, especially when he was feeling depressed. His smile formed into a grin, revealing his teeth. Then he laughed at the stupidity of what he was doing.

He felt strange. He felt relieved and then he felt content and then he felt lonely. But it was okay.

Within five minutes of walking, the form of the football field came into view. He jogged to it, his eyes looking over the field. It was spacious, but not too big. It was meant for teenagers or kids to play on, nothing to special.

He remembered his class would come here to play, and his mother always watched him. Only that time it wasn't raining, of course. It was commonly sunny at the time. That was actually a few weeks before his mother passed away.

Arthur shook his head, not wanting to get in a bad mood. Then he walked to the center of the field and inhaled deeply. After he exhaled, he began to sprint around the outside of the field.

He felt adrenaline rush into him as he ran around the field, in a wide oval, repeatedly. He felt like running, to let his depression and stress and worries leave him for the short time of three minutes. His feet slapped against the wet grass, blades of grass sticking to his boots. His throat and lungs burned from the cold air.

Once he grew worn out, he slowed to a stop, and panted heavily, the rain still drumming around him. He watched the rain as he breathed loudly, trying to catch his breath. His heart hammered in his chest, Arthur's grin long gone.

Now he felt exhausted and cold and wet. He turned and walked to the metal bleachers meant for the audience to watch the games, Arthur walking up the seats, his feet clanging against the metal. Once he made it to the top row, he turned and sat down, the back of his jeans getting more soaked. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but Arthur remained sitting nonetheless.

He rested his forearms on his knees, his back hunched, his head lowered. His breathing returned to normal, his lips in a deep frown. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at his feet, hearing the rain slap against the metal of the bleachers. Water ran down his forehead and somehow passed his wide eyebrows, dripping off his eyelashes onto his cheeks.

He sat there for five minutes in silence, just listening to the rain. Now he was unhappy again. Just then, when he ran, he felt happy. But it only lasted a few minutes.

"Arthur?", he heard a voice yell through the pouring of the rain, Arthur jumping slightly. He raised his head and saw Michelle, standing at the foot of the bleachers, an umbrella covering her from the rain. Arthur blinked a few times in confusion.

"What are you doing here?", she asked over the rain, her thin eyebrows knitted together. Arthur thought it was cute. He straightened his lips. He shook his head, "I don't know." Michelle smiled softly, "Come down. I don't want you to get a cold."

Arthur groaned mentally as he stood, before he made his way down to her. Once he stepped in front of her, she held the umbrella out for him. Arthur noticed how she was getting wet. "Hey-! No, don't get yourself wet..", Arthur said and pushed the umbrella back to protect her from the rain. Michelle continued to smile.

"Arthur, why are you here?", she asked again, her eyes fixed on Arthur's. Arthur looked away. He scratched his cheek.

"Where's your friend?", she said, watching Arthur with a concerned expression. Arthur raised his eyes to her light brown ones. "Who?"

"That man. With the long blonde hair and blue eyes. I saw him with you at the restaurant. You looked close."

Arthur stared at her, "Why?" Michelle frowned. "Why isn't he here with you? I mean, he wouldn't want you to get sick.", she spoke over the rain. Arthur shook his head, "No. But what are _you _doing here? How did you find me?"

"I..saw you walk in the same direction I was heading. I was coming home from the library. So, I was curious to what you were doing without an umbrella.."

Arthur remained silent as he looked in her eyes, completely confused to why she even cared. Michelle opened her mouth to speak. "Where is he?"

"It doesn't matter!", Arthur snapped, noticing how Michelle flinched. He exhaled and then said softly, "He doesn't care about me. I don't see why you should either." Michelle shook her head, "No, Arthur, you don't seem to understand. Even if I haven't spoken to him, it looked like he cares about you."

Arthur clenched his hands and looked away, not wanting to hear anymore. "You're wrong." Michelle then held the umbrella over Arthur, getting her hair and clothes soaked. Arthur raised his eyes to her.

"Stop being so blind. I don't know you very well, but I can tell you're the type to deny your feelings. You just need to _look _and to _listen_, Arthur. If things aren't going so well right now, then sort it out. It's not good to keep your feelings pent up inside. It's best to speak them."

Arthur stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. She was like the female Francis. But he remained silent. Then Michelle pulled her arm back to hold the umbrella back over herself, letting Arthur get rained on again.

"Stop being so pathetic.", she said sternly. Arthur knew she didn't mean that in an offensive way, but in a supportive way. Or at least, he thought so. Because he knew she was right.

Then she smiled, "I hope the best for you." Arthur looked at her blankly, until she turned and walked out of the field and onto the sidewalk. He continued watching her as she walked away, until the mist blocked her from view.

He stood there in confusion for a few minutes until he grew too cold, Arthur sighing as he began to walk back to the apartment, his boots splashing against the puddles of water that hid in the grass of the field.

It took him ten minutes to walk back to the apartment, his mood dropped back into a depression. By the time he was back inside his somewhat warm apartment, he was tired. Once he peeled off his soaked clothes and threw them into the bathtub and took off his boots, he slipped, naked, underneath the dry, thick blankets of his bed.

He heaved a sigh, relieved by the comfort of warmth and the plush blankets. But he wasn't really too tired for sleep, his thoughts were restless. They were filled with what Michelle said. Arthur was entirely annoyed with how right she was, but then again, he was thankful she knocked some sense into him. Even if it wasn't much.

Soon enough, Arthur found his pillow wet from his hair.

* * *

><p><strong>Two days later; Paris, France 2:38 p.m.<strong>

The sun hung in the sky as Francis paced down the sidewalk, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He was wearing a long sleeved, black t-shirt that revealed his collarbone and the top of his shoulders, with a pair of gray jeans. A light frown was on his lips. Not in displeasure, but he just wasn't smiling.

And there was a reason to why he wasn't smiling. He usually had a loose smile on his lips every second he was outside walking the streets in Paris, but today he just wasn't in the mood. He missed Arthur.

His arms waved back and forth slightly by his sides as he walked leisurely down the stone walkway, cars passing him at a comfortable speed. To him, Paris was one of the most relaxing places. A packet of cigarettes, his favorite brand, sat in his pocket, along with a lighter.

He made his way to the bridge he visited each time he was in the mood to smoke, Francis taking note of the familiarity of the street as he approached it. It was a small bridge, basically meant to cross the river below it. It was also only allowed to let people walk across, not for vehicles to drive over.

The sun warmed his arms and the top of his head, the black of his shirt capturing the heat. He walked up to the bridge, his pace slowing. He appreciated the beautiful design of the stones decorating the floor of the bridge, his aqua eyes averting to the glistening river below. Finally, taken away by the beauty, a smile spread over his lips.

He sighed dreamily, and then chuckled as he leaned over the stone railing of the bridge. The sound of the water running soothed him as well as the tapping of footsteps and the purring of cars as they passed the bridge.

He took out his pack of cigarettes and slipped one out before taking out his lighter. He placed the bud of the cigarette in his lips and lit the end, the edges of his lips curved upwards. Once he returned the lighter to his jean's pocket, he raised his hands to his cigarette, and held it between his fingers.

He inhaled before pulling the cigarette from his lips and leaning down over the railing, resting his forearms on the stone, his cigarette between his fore and middle fingers. The smoke blew out from his nose once he exhaled, his eyes fixed on the river.

The more days passed, the more Francis grew worried about Arthur. How was he doing? Was he depressed? Did he get someone else to accompany him? Did he not care anymore? The smile on Francis' lips abandoned him, his eyebrows furrowing.

He wanted to kiss Arthur again. He wanted to comfort him again and to give him company and to tell him things were going to alright. And hopefully, they were going to be.

Of course, he knew things weren't going to stay like this. He had already planned, the _moment _he walked out of Arthur's apartment, that he was going to return and apologize and get things back on track. As long as Arthur was forgiving.

Francis knew what he said was insensitive. And he never, ever, planned to say that. In fact, it just came out of his mouth. From the anger in him at the time. He was just frustrated that Arthur was being difficult, but he knew that he shouldn't try to fight his thoughts, and guilt, with an excuse.

He raised the cigarette to his lips and inhaled again.

Worry and curiosity to what Arthur was up to burned inside Francis, and he was always edgy. He usually grew irritated easier. And he knew it didn't help but he just couldn't stop thinking about Arthur.

Francis laughed to himself, realizing how in love he was. And it never was like this before. Sure, he was in love with many people before, but it wasn't the same. He raised a hand to brush back his bangs, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

He had stood there for about twenty minutes, having thrown his burnt-out cigarette bud into the river a while ago. His thoughts were flooded with Arthur, as usual, Francis' eyes distant as he stared out at the water. The sun had urged him to leave, his shoulders and back growing hot.

Once he returned home, he had spoken to Maria and his mother for a short time before he went to his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, and then sighed, reaching back to slip his hairband out, his long locks falling down onto his shoulders.

It was much too early to sleep, but he didn't want to deal with his mother or go out again. So, he decided to get undressed and take a long shower. And after that, he dried his hair and didn't bother to style it, Francis content with it resting on his shoulders. But once he got dressed again, he wasn't sure what to do.

He sat down on his bed, and stared at his floor for a minute and then started sorting through his suitcase, putting away the few pairs of clothes he had bothered to bring. Then he sorted his bathroom before he vacuumed the bedroom's carpet.

Once he had nothing else to do, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, his suitcase at his feet. He heaved another bored sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. Things were a lot more entertaining when Arthur was around. When Arthur was around, he actually had someone to talk to comfortably with. He wouldn't be alone anymore. Or lonely.

But now, he was stuck at his parents' manor, doing really nothing for his mother, only talking to her. Or more accurately, listening to her nagging. Which annoyed him to no end.

He listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall, his eyes fixed on the carpet. He looked up at the clock, reading the time, and then groaned. He could ask one of his friends to visit Paris to keep him company, but he wasn't sure if he even had anymore friends. In fact, most of his 'friends' were his ex-girlfriends and boyfriends.

Sighing, he took out his phone to make sure. Once he flipped it open and went to his contacts, he skimmed through it, counting off all of the numbers he had of his ex's. He slowed to a stop in the K's, hovering over Arthur's name. He stared at his name for a few seconds, debating whether or not to call or text him.

He fought the urge, deciding it would be best to apologize, face-to-face.

* * *

><p>The next morning after Arthur's walk, sunlight poured through the window, taunting him with a beautiful day. And he noticed of course, a groan coming from his lips as he rolled over onto his stomach, the blanket slipping off onto his floor.<p>

He shivered, even though it was contently warm in his apartment, as his naked body was exposed. He kept his face in his pillow as he reached over the side to feel around for the blanket, but the ground was too far away.

Fed up with moving, he just curled into a ball on his side and tried to get back to sleep. Birds chirped outside his window, as if to mock him. "Shut up, you worthless piles of feathers.", he mumbled at them. Once another loud melody of chirping answered, which sounded like laughter, Arthur growled.

Then he sneezed horrifically, making Arthur snarl again. "Are you fucking kidding me..", he said then swore loudly, before he sat up. He bent over the bed to snatch at the blanket, but it was laying a few inches away from his fingertips. Arthur gave up on trying to sleep peacefully, the Brit letting out a sigh as his arm dangled off the side of the bed.

Once he got the motivation to get out of bed, he lazily walked to the bathroom and started a shower. After standing under the spray of hot water for thirty minutes, all the while staring at the wall (thinking of Francis), he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He ran his hands through his wet hair as he walked out of the bathroom, his eyes drifting to the bed. It called to him, but he ignored it's pleas and walked to the closet.

After thumbing through his shirts, none of them looked comfortable or appeasing. The closest thing he could find to comfortable was the same sweater Francis bought him awhile ago. He stared at it in his hands, running his thumb over the soft fabric.

He raised it and slipped it over his head, reaching down to pull it over his torso. He took the towel off from around his waist, dropping it to the floor. The sweater reached the middle of his thighs, Arthur relishing in the comfortable feeling of the fabric.

Once he exhaled, he turned to pace to the bed and sit on the side, looking at the alarm clock. It was early, which surprised him. Then he glanced at the journal resting on the nightstand, the pen sitting on top.

Arthur reached up to grab the journal, and flipped it open to the first page, reading his previous entry. He stared at it and then opened to the next, blank page. He lifted the pen off the nightstand to rest the tip on the first line of the page, and then paused, not sure what to write.

He tried to think of something to write, but all that came up was complaints. Then he thought about his thoughts and feelings. He began to write.

'_I hate being confused. But lately, ever since Francis spoke a single word to me, I've been confused. And I don't know why. I don't know why Francis is such a confusing person, and I never understand him. All I know is that he thinks my mother dying was a good thing. And I don't understand that either. Maybe he's too much of a fucking idiot to think of a something better. I mean, not better. I mean..._', Arthur paused.

'_Anyways, I can't help but wonder what Francis is up to. I bet he already replaced me with some other unfortunate person! ..Would he do that? Oh, I'm running out of space to write, so I'll finish this..um, I think Francis is a narcissistic bastard that has a small dick._'


	9. Chapter 9

It's been two months since Arthur had met Francis.

When Arthur counted, that is. He had counted how long it's been since Francis had stepped into his life. One and a half of those months were spent with Francis, and the other half was of him just laying around, doing absolutely nothing.

Or, not absolutely nothing. Occasionally, he would lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Francis. Or he would take a long hot shower and write stupid entries into his journal, and then would take a pointless walk outside. And when he was hungry, he would visit the same restaurant as before. He was either being bored out of his mind, or was busy masturbating to the thought of Francis.

He imagined it was Francis' hand – and not his own – that was running up and down the shaft of his arousal and he imagined it was Francis' hands running over his skin. Over his stomach, his thighs, and his chest. It was Francis' hands that were playing with his hard nipples or his fingers slipping inside him.

Arthur knew it was stupid but he couldn't help but close his eyes, and each time he did, his imagination had wandered to the Frenchman. So it sort of became routine. Either in the shower or before he went to sleep. Maybe he was just being desperate. Or lonely.

Arthur stared up at the ceiling as he wondered what he was going to do today. When no ideas came to mind, he rolled onto his side and groaned. He might just die from boredom.

He rubbed his eyes before he sat up and stood from the bed, glancing at the clock. It was only twelve p.m. A loud sigh came from him.

Then he made his way towards the bathroom, his footsteps padding against the carpet and then the tile. Once he pulled his sweater off, he placed it on the toilet before he slipped his underwear off and threw it back into the bedroom. He reached past the shower curtain and turned on the hot water, the spray of water shooting from the shower head.

After it warmed up, he stepped in, too tense to exhale from the warmth. He ran his hands through his hair, wetting it down. Then, he stood there. He felt strange. Like, he felt blank. His mood was blank, his thoughts were gone, his interest in doing _anything _leaving him.

So, he just stood there, under the spray of hot water, staring at nothing in particular.

Once he snapped back into reality, he got out of the shower and threw on his sweater without bothering to dry himself. His hair dripped down his neck and fell off his bangs onto the carpet. He shook his hair out with his hands before he bent down to snatch his underwear and pull it back on.

He sat at the end of the bed, his hair getting his sweater wet. He stared at his hands, running his fingers over each other, his thoughts desperately trying to think of something to do. When no ideas came to mind, he stood and began to aimlessly sort things in his room.

He picked up the garbage from the floor and under his bed before tossing it in the garbage bin beside his bed. Then he walked to his closet, reaching out to slide the door open. His laundry rested in piles at the bottom, Arthur glancing at them before he looked over the piles of magazines and books he kept in the corner.

Once he scooped out all the clothing, he sat at the bottom of the closet, crossing his legs. He began sorting through the books, reading the titles. He made a pile for books he wanted to keep, and books that weren't wanted. The pile for books he wanted surpassed the unwanted pile, most of the books he kept were the ones he enjoyed.

He stacked the books back into the corner of the closet then went to the magazines. He wasn't one to take interest in magazines, seeing as most of them were pornography magazines. But, he grew uninterested in them a long time ago. He had just thrown them in the closet.

He reached out past the door of the closet to throw all his magazines in the garbage, some of them bouncing off the sides and falling on the floor. With a sigh, Arthur stood and walked to them before harshly throwing them in the garbage with the others.

After he pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, he gathered his laundry into his arms and carefully opened the apartment's door with his hand, before he walked out. Leaving his door open, he walked down the stairs towards the laundry room that the apartment had, before pushing open the ajar door with his shoulder.

Once he had managed to shove his laundry into a washing machine, he shut the lid and started the washing machine. The loud shaking of the machine started, Arthur turning to walk out of the room.

His footsteps tapped against the stairs as he walked up to the balcony, his eyes staring at the smooth concrete. He turned and walked to his apartment, before pushing past the open door and shutting it behind him.

Then he paced into the bathroom and crouched in front of the sink. He opened the cabinet below it and reached in to pull out the untouched washing bleach. After grabbing a wash cloth, he stood to turn on the sink and soak the cloth before pouring a little bit of bleach on it.

He approached the tub and got inside, and then crouched down to start scrubbing the porcelain walls, his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to wash the dirt off the sides. Eventually, it turned into a satisfying white, Arthur spinning on his feet to start scrubbing at the opposite side. His fingers grew a bright red from the wet cloth and the pressure he applied to it, his back and feet hurting from crouching down.

"Francis spent four hours doing _this_?", he grumbled to himself, recalling how he had washed all his walls including his bathroom and bedroom. Then he paused, suddenly feeling grateful. He sneered and shook his head before he continued washing the caked dirt off.

Once all four sides of the bathtub were a gleaming white, he stood and groaned, arching his back to crack it a few times. He let out a sigh as he stepped out, tossing the filthy rag into the sink. He washed his hands, surprisingly, then walked into his bedroom, approaching the garbage bin. He reached down to take out the garbage bag, and tie it securely.

He quickly went out the door and down the stairs to the dumpster on the outside of the apartment building, before throwing the garbage bag into it, Arthur hearing it hit loudly against the metal.

Then he returned to his apartment to clear the top of the nightstand off, placing his journal inside the drawer and his alarm clock on the bed.

After quickly washing the used rag in the bathroom sink, he returned to wipe the top of the nightstand.

During this cleaning session, he had thought about seeing Francis again, what it would be like. He knew Francis would still be angered at him, or at least he thought he knew, but he wasn't sure how he himself would act. Would he be glad to see him? He didn't know, but he knew he wanted to see Francis again. Which annoyed him, because he had no idea why.

His wiping grew more harsh, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows in irritation. But then he slowed down his hand to a stop, staring at the smooth wood. Then, his stomach growled at him. The aching pain stabbed at his abdomen.

Sighing at his hunger, he left the cloth on the nightstand as he went to switch his laundry from the washing machine to the dryer.

* * *

><p>The buzzing of the AC in the café soothed Francis, as well as the humming of the ceiling fan. It felt comfortable, for some reason, to him.<p>

His reading glasses were perched on the bridge of his slender nose, his eyes downcast, reading the words in his novel. Only three other people were in the café with him; the waitress, a woman at a separate table who was on her laptop, and the cashier. He knew the cashier, Johanna, but they only occasionally talked, when Francis was in the mood to flirt.

The rustling of the page as he turned it made Francis smile, the sound music to his ears. He liked books. The smell of the pages, the noises it made, the content within it's covers were all amazing to him. He chuckled to himself before he began reading the new page.

It had been about two weeks since he's been in Paris, and he liked being at home. But loneliness, a close friend, began to form inside him. Today, though, he felt better. Tomorrow he was planning on returning to London, to see Arthur. Hopefully, without his mother and Arthur himself finding out.

Time had flown by as Francis read; almost two hours. By the time he noticed, the sun had started to slip down the sky. So, after quickly drinking the rest of his coffee, he folded the corner to the page he was on, and then shut his book and stood, sliding his glasses off his nose.

After paying and chatting with Johanna, he left and began to walk towards his parents' manor. The streets were still lively, but as half an hour passed, fewer cars drove by him. By the time he reached the manor, his footsteps were the only sound he heard, the sun no longer visible.

He approached the front door and knocked lightly, hearing footsteps on the other side. Once the click of the lock sounded, the door slid open, revealing Maria standing there as usual. She nodded and smiled, "Welcome back, sir." Francis returned the smile as he walked in, "Please, call me Francis. No need to have formalities." Maria remained silent as she shut and locked the door behind him. She turned and stared at him, Francis standing there before he nodded slightly and turned to walk to the staircase.

"Uh..", Maria began, Francis pausing and glancing back at her. She was looking at the floor, her mouth in a thin line. Francis arched a brow, "Yes?" Maria kept her eyes downcast, "I've..been wanting to thank you. For cleaning the kitchen that one time." Francis paused and then smiled, "Of course. You are welcome." Then he walked up the stairs and made his way to his bedroom.

After shutting the door behind him, he rolled his shoulders from the ache due to the long walk, his mouth curving down into a frown.

His footsteps padded against the carpet as he walked to his bed, before he sat down with a light sigh, his eyes closing. He placed his book on the nightstand before he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He rested his hands in his lap as he stared at the floor, thinking about what it would be like seeing Arthur tomorrow. Would Arthur still be mad at him? He hoped not.

'_Perhaps he's back to being a miserable idiot._', Francis thought with amusement, smiling lightly as he took his shoes off. After standing, he crossed the room to the bathroom as he lifted his shirt above his head, walking into the bathroom to place it on the closed laundry hamper. Once he slid his jeans and underwear off, he started the shower and got in once it warmed up, a content hum purring in his neck.

The water matted down his hair to his neck and shoulders, Francis staring at the opposite wall as he ran his hands over his wet locks.

Once he washed his hair and body, he turned the water off, and squeezed his hair in his hand, the majority of the water falling from the tip onto the porcelain. After shaking his hair out, he stepped out and grabbed a towel, running it over his arms and torso before wrapping it around his waist.

He grabbed his clothes and walked out of the bathroom, steam rolling off his arms and shoulders into the cooler room. He hummed as he tossed his clothes onto the bed before he walked to his mirror and grabbed his brush.

After running it through his slightly damp locks, he placed it back down and ran his fingers through his hair, smiling at the smooth texture. He grabbed a hair band and pulled his hair back and tied it up, letting his bangs fall back down to hug his face. He raised a hand to brush his bangs back, smiling at his reflection.

Once he stopped staring at himself, he changed into his sweatpants and a sweater. He tightened his ponytail before he grabbed his ashtray out of his suitcase and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. After finding his cigarette pack and lighter, he laid back on the bed, resting against the headboard.

He lit a cigarette and then rested his lighter beside the ashtray. He sighed and then brought the lit cigarette to his lips and inhaled before he reached out his other hand to grab his book.

After finding his spot and putting on his reading glasses, he began reading. He occasionally lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, keeping his eyes fixed on the page as he did so. His breathing, the ticking of the clock, and the rustling of the pages were the only sounds he could hear, relaxing him. He enjoyed silence.

This routine continued for another hour before his eyelids grew heavy with weariness. His cigarette had died awhile ago, as well as his urge to read. So, he heaved a tired sigh as he marked his spot and quietly closed his book. He placed the book on the nightstand, and yawned before he stood and slipped his glasses off.

After setting them beside the book, he turned to walk to his mirror. He looked at himself as he pulled the hairband out, his hair falling down onto his shoulders. After he rubbed his eyes and mentally noted he looked tired, he walked into the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth.

It was considerably late, a little after the usual time he went to sleep, and Francis felt exhausted, but he could feel a little bit anxious, excited but then again nervous, to seeing Arthur tomorrow.

Once he made his bed and turned off the light, he slipped under the thick covers, feeling the soft plushness of the comforter. He exhaled gratefully and nuzzled closer to his pillow, closing his eyes. He thought about Arthur's reaction to seeing him at his door. Then he thought about him throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him as if he couldn't be happier to see him again.

Francis chuckled lightly and then sighed, wishing and hoping it would be like that.

* * *

><p><strong>Two hours ago; London<strong>

With a heaved sigh, the Brit laid back on his bed, stretching his aching arms and legs out.

He had spent another two hours cleaning up the rest of his apartment and putting his clean laundry away, and now he was exhausted.

It was strange that he had cleaned. Usually, he wouldn't care at all. He wouldn't care if a stain or two had tainted his clothes or if his bathtub had been caked with dirt or his books untouched. But now, he considered it was important to not be a pig. Simply because, he had someone to show that he was able to be clean.

Arthur groaned and rubbed his eyes, hating how he recently realized Francis meant so much to him. Perhaps, not romantically though. He rolled onto his side, and tried to not think about it, clenching his eyes shut and attempting to clear his thoughts.

He imagined a white, blank room. Four walls; north, south, east, and west. All blank. No paintings, no filth, nothing. And nothing was inside the room either.

But then he imagined leaving the room, what he would find. Well, obviously, a sun, a sky, ground, plants, animals. Just basically wildlife. No humans though. Besides him. No one to pester him or to ask him for directions.

And _then_, a pair of lively, blue eyes appeared in his mind as well as warm hands and a bright smile.

He didn't care he was imagining Francis being alone with him in a wide, empty world. A wide, empty world for them to be together in.

Arthur corrected himself mentally, saying he imagined no one pestering him. But then he paused his thoughts, thinking that maybe Francis wasn't a pest. So, he allowed his imagination to continue.

His mind portrayed Francis smiling at him, his arms reaching out to wrap lazily around his own waist. Then the wide beautiful world disappeared, now only him and Francis standing together. And that's what Arthur focused on.

He focused on Francis running his hands up and under his shirt, sliding it up before pulling it over his head. Then his hands had begun to roam over his pale skin, spreading warmth as they slid over his chest and stomach and back and arms. Somehow, they had ended up at the button of Arthur's jeans, already working on getting them off.

Arthur, now back in reality, was gripping onto the blanket of his bed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and arousal. He opened his eyes and sat up, rubbing his eyes in annoyance at himself.

Then his stomach complained, Arthur scowling. He had forgotten he was hungry, Arthur placing a hand on his stomach as it began to ache.

He sighed and pushed off the bed, grabbing the money off the nightstand and then threw on his jacket. As he tugged on his boots, he considered visiting the restaurant and then perhaps a pub. He had finished his beer Francis had bought him awhile ago, so why not quench his thirst?

After grabbing his phone, he opened the door to his apartment and walked out, before shutting and locking it behind him. The night sky awed him as he turned to face it, his eyes studying the star patterned sky. It was late already?

Shrugging the concern off, he began down the balcony and then the stairs, his footsteps tapping as he made his way towards the restaurant, his hands in his jacket's pockets.

His breath came out visible, Arthur staring as it blew from his lips, like smoke. Oh, that's right. It was almost winter. He smiled lightly, now anxious for any snowfall. Snow always excited him, and he knew why. It was so beautiful, to him. The way it sprinkled from the sky, like salt. As like rain, tears from God. But then he laughed, realizing how stupid that sounded.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he thought about snow. The satisfying crunch of the snow beneath his feet and the chill sticking to his nose and cheeks. The silence and peace of the streets late at night.

Before Arthur knew it, twenty minutes had passed of him walking, the restaurant coming into view. He sped up his pace, feeling cold from the night air. He approached the front doors swiftly, pulling a hand out of his pocket to reach out and yank one open.

Warm air greeted him as he walked in, Arthur exhaling as he walked into the waiting area. He noticed the same waitress, that he and Francis had before, standing at the front counter. She noticed him standing there, her eyes lighting up slightly.

"Oh. It's you. From before.", she said, but then recalled him being rudely sarcastic the last time she saw him. She frowned. Arthur smiled mockingly, "Yes. It's me." Her eyebrow twitched, "So, only one?" She took out a menu.

"Mhm.", he said, walking up to her. She nodded, "This way." Arthur followed as she walked into the dining area, pacing past the other tables of customers before she stopped in front of a table beside the windows. She placed the menu on the table as Arthur slid into the booth. "Your waitress will be here to serve you shortly.", she stated before she turned.

But then she paused and turned back to look at him. Arthur looked up at her as she opened her mouth to speak. "Hey, where's your friend?"

Arthur frowned. "He's, obviously, not here.", he gestured to the other seat from across him. She rolled her eyes and then walked away to return to the front desk. A sigh blew from Arthur as he raised a hand to run it through his hair, annoyed that he has been constantly asked that. Why is everyone so nosy?

He flipped open the menu and looked down at it's contents, neglecting the orders he already knew he wasn't interested in.

After choosing one, he closed it just as his waitress walked up to him. She had long red hair with a fringe, one of her thin eyebrows pierced with a ring. Arthur liked the look, but it wasn't attractive to him.

"Are you ready to order?", she asked, her dark brown eyes staring into Arthur's. Arthur nodded before he told her his order. She scribbled it down, "For a drink?" Arthur paused, not sure. He wasn't in the mood for water and he hated coffee.

"..Tea."

"Alright. Your order will be here soon.", she said blankly as she took his menu and walked away, her red hair swaying slightly. Arthur's stomach grumbled angrily. He sighed as he took out his phone, wanting to do something besides just sitting there.

He flipped it open and stared at the screen, trying to remember any numbers he could add to the contacts. The only number he memorized was his mother's, but there really was no use for it anymore.

He did have an annoying, obnoxious friend that moved to America, but he didn't know his number. And, he was really his only friend that he actually didn't mind all that much. Arthur began aimlessly going through the menu.

He gave up after staring at the time on the phone for a few minutes, closing the phone before returning it to his pocket. Arthur placed his elbow on the table and held his chin in his palm, glaring at the seat from across him.

Just then, his red-haired waitress returned with a mug in her hand, steam emitting from it's contents. She placed it before him with a clink, before she turned and left once more. Arthur looked down at it, smelling the scent of the tea.

He hooked his fingers into the handle of the mug and lifted it, before he brought it to his lips. He took a drink, the hot liquid burning his tongue, but he didn't care. It tasted fresh. He smiled, deciding it tasted pleasant.

Ten minutes later, the waitress returned with his order in hand. She had set it on the table with another loud clink, before she asked if he needed anything else. After saying no, he lifted his silverware and began to eat.

Once finished with his meal, which he had consumed rather quickly, he downed the rest of his tea and exhaled with satisfaction. After sliding out of the booth, he walked out to the waiting area to pay. Once he paid, he had gone to the bathroom to relieve his bladder before he left the restaurant, his stomach full, thanks to Francis.

Arthur shivered from the cold air as he walked away from the restaurant, in the direction of a nearby pub. It was only five minutes away, so Arthur took his time with a leisurely pace. His hands resided in his pockets, his boots tapping against the concrete, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk.

He began to wonder why his thoughts were usually filled with Francis. It annoyed him at some times, but at other times it made his heart clench and his chest knot up. And sometimes, most commonly, his heartbeat sped up and his cheeks flushed, his palms growing sweaty. It confused him.

He tried to understand why, as Michelle had said, but all that came up was more confusion, which discouraged him further. So, he decided to go along with his thoughts, giving up on trying to understand himself.

As he approached the pub, he forced his thoughts away for another time, his eyes drifting over the exterior. It was obviously open, the inside lit and buzzing with conversation. He pushed past the front door, gaining a few pairs of eyes that only threw a glance before returning to their own business.

He decided on sitting at the bar, the stool squeaking as he pulled it out and sat down. The bartender approached him, a light smile on his lips.

"Good evening. What would you like?", he greeted, fixing his eyes on Arthur's. Arthur nodded, "Just a glass of Scotch, I suppose." The bartender nodded as well before he turned to grab a bottle off the shelf and a glass.

He filled the glass halfway before placing it before Arthur and then turned to return the bottle to the shelf. Arthur tightened his lips into a line as he hooked his fingers around the glass and lifted it to his lips.

After he finished the glass with small, spaced-out drinks, he pulled out some money to pay for the bill, satisfied with a single glass. He glanced to his side, noticing two snooty looking guys staring at him. Once they caught him looking, one of them sneered at him.

"Got any left over money for a drink, mate?", the confident one asked in a rude tone with a very slight – but still noticeable – slur. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows as the other one watched him with glassy eyes.

"No.", he lied, shoving the rest in his pocket. The persistent one laughed a laugh that sounded like a dolphin, "You're lyin'. Mind buying me and my pal a drink?"

"Fuck off.", Arthur growled as he slapped the money down on the bar for the bill, before he stood and pushed past the tables and out the door into the chilly night. He shoved his hands back into his pockets as he strode hastily down the sidewalk towards his apartment, trying to gain farther distance between him and the pub.

He was tired and irritated, and he just wanted to get to bed. So, he quickened his strides, basically jogging down the sidewalk. Eventually, he passed the restaurant, his footsteps slowing as he felt safer, the pub way behind him.

His breath blew out from his mouth and flew behind him as he walked past it, his emerald eyes fixed on the sidewalk in front of his feet as he continued down the concrete.

A few minutes passed as he walked silently down the sidewalk, but then he paused, feeling edgy. He glanced around in front of him then turned and looked back. He froze, realizing two people were a few meters away behind him.

And that's not the only reason why he went rigid; they were the same guys from the pub. Apparently, once he glanced back at them, they paused before walking at a faster pace towards him.

"Hey! You still owe us money!", the same one who asked him for money yelled, the other one following beside him. Arthur felt his heart jump, his eyes widening slightly.

He then turned on his heels to run in the opposite direction, towards his apartment. Instantly, the footsteps behind him became constant, indicating they were running after him. Arthur felt his heart hammer in his chest as he dashed down the sidewalk. Fear coursed through him as well as adrenaline, Arthur panicking as he tried to speed up.

He began to pant heavily, Arthur continuing to hear their rapid footsteps behind him. They were closer than before. Arthur was cursing in his head as he was growing exhausted, his legs growing heavier. He continued to sprint nonetheless, his pants becoming gasps.

"Get back here, you prick!", he heard him shout, a lot closer. Arthur felt his legs burn with protest, his breaths shorter. When they didn't give up, he glanced around for a way to escape them, knowing his apartment was a ways away.

Then, he spotted an alleyway. Seeing as it's his only chance, he pushed the rest of his strength into his legs and sprinted into it, but then froze, realizing it was a dead end. "Fuck!", Arthur growled before he turned and ran out. His heart was still beating heavily but once he noticed both of them a few feet away, his heart jumped again.

He tried to run out of the alleyway, and he did, but the taller one grabbed him by his jacket's collar and tugged him back, Arthur letting out a surprised yell. He tried to yank himself away from his grip, but he was dragged back into the alleyway, his legs flailing as he scratched at the hand gripping his collar. He began to panic. Not like freaked out when he was running, but now he feared for his life.

"Let me go, you assholes!", he screamed, digging his nails into the hand. Then, he was. The hand let go of his collar, Arthur falling onto the hard ground with an 'oof'. He scrambled onto his feet, but then was grabbed onto again.

He was turned around to face the tall one, Arthur's eyes wide with fear as he stared into the man's furious eyes. He noticed the smaller one watching them. "You sure are scrawny, ey?", the man spoke, his hands gripping the front of Arthur's shirt. Arthur remained silent, his lips quivering. He then began to tug at the man's hands, and kick at his legs and groin.

As he tried to get free, the man let a single hand go to pull his arm back, elbow cocked back. He then swung his arm back down to plant it into Arthur's stomach, Arthur's legs and hands freezing as his air was knocked out of him.

Arthur grunted in pain, clenching his eyes shut as he gasped for air. He then was shoved down onto the ground, Arthur coughing horribly. He then felt angry, incredibly furious for being chased because of a stupid reason.

After getting back on his feet, he raised a fist to bring it on the man's face, a loud, wet smack sounding, the man stumbling backwards. "Fuckers!", Arthur spat, his chest heaving, his face twisted into a livid glare. The other one had started to scowl, his hands in fists.

Even though he was shorter than the other one, he was muscular. And now that he was throwing his fists at Arthur, Arthur realized he was way out-numbered.

Arthur had avoided his fists, but the taller one had regained his composure and grabbed onto Arthur. Then the other one began throwing heavy punches across his face, Arthur feeling pain shoot through his skin.

He tried to yank himself out of his grip, but he didn't budge. The other one threw a _hard _one against his cheek, Arthur's head jerking to the side from the contact. Arthur growled and kicked at the smaller one, hitting him in the crotch.

The man groaned and fell to his knees, the hands gripping Arthur's jacket loosening for a second. Arthur took the chance to yank out of his grasp and turned around to throw another punch against his face, a loud crack sounding.

Arthur's face burned with pain as he panted, watching as the man let out a pained grunt, stumbling against the alleyway wall. Arthur began to run past him, but the smaller one on the ground grabbed him by the ankle, making him trip and fall down onto his side.

Arthur kicked his hand off and scrambled to his feet again, but the bigger one was blocking him now. And as Arthur looked up at him with anger and fear, the man pulled out a switchblade and withdrew the blade.

"What..do you think you're doing, you bloody bastards?", Arthur growled, realizing it was a bit late to ask that. The man only watched him with angry eyes, his cheek bruised from Arthur's fist.

Arthur's eye twitched in anxiety, his hands shaking. Arthur began to try and run past again, but the man swung his arm with the blade and slashed a large cut through his leather jacket and into his forearm. Arthur clenched his teeth and hissed in pain, gripping his forearm.

He felt warm blood travel down his arm to drip off his fingertips, onto the pavement below. Arthur's hands were stained with his blood as he continued to grip his forearm, trying to stop the flow and pain, even though it made it worse.

The smaller one that was on the ground had gotten up, and now was advancing on Arthur with his fist raised. Arthur tried to step out of the way, but he was too slow, the man bringing his fist down on Arthur's cheek again.

Arthur stumbled back, tripping on his feet, and fell down onto his backside. Hard. He grit his teeth at all the pain that coursed through his body, his eyes watering. He gasped once the big one had grabbed onto his shirt and yanked him up, making their eyes level.

Arthur panted against his face, before he closed his mouth and spit on his face. "Fuck you.", Arthur breathed, his arms and legs trembling. The man growled, before shoving him against the alleyway's wall, head-first.

Pain shot through his skull, Arthur's eyes wide as he collapsed onto the ground, his breath knocked out of him. He had a difficult time breathing as he felt his eyelids droop shut before he fell unconscious, his arm bleeding profusely.

* * *

><p><strong>9 hours later; Paris<strong>

A nervous frown sat on Francis' lips as he boarded the plane to London. He had packed a single suitcase, and spent two hours getting ready. He wanted to be as relaxed as possible, not wanting to grow anxious. So, he had taken his time with taking a shower, brushing his hair, styling it, and choosing a specific suit to wear.

And once he had found his seat in first class, he waited for the plane to take off. Once it had, he was barely able to think through seeing Arthur again, and then before he knew it, an hour had passed and he was back in London.

His thoughts were distancing from him as he left the plane among the group of people, his eyes fixed on the ground as he walked into the airport's spacious and crowded lobby.

Once he called a taxi, he walked out of the airport, his hands in his pockets as he gazed over the street and buildings. He wasn't an incredibly confident person. Sure, he flirted a lot and such but he always fretted over people's feelings and how he was judged. And now, he was worried what Arthur would feel and say. Perhaps, he didn't care anymore.

With a sigh, Francis ran his fingers through his bangs.

After another ten minutes, a taxi pulled up, Francis noticing it and walking towards it before he got in, slamming the door shut behind him. He told the driver Arthur's address and then sat back against the seat, his blue eyes fixed on the view outside the window.

Within twenty minutes, or five minutes to Francis, the taxi pulled into the parking lot of the same apartment, Francis' heartbeat clattering around inside his chest as he looked up at the exterior of the apartment complex.

After handing the driver the fare, he slowly opened his door and stepped out, shutting the door behind him quietly. The taxi drove out of the parking lot as Francis straightened out his suit, his thoughts fighting against his worry.

Once he exhaled and inhaled a few times, he walked towards the stairs, his feet tapping as he climbed the steps, his eyes downcast. He walked down the balcony to Arthur's door, his heart beating heavily in his ribcage. Francis flattened out his hair and sighed again before he raised a fist to knock on the door a few times.

The first few noises he heard was groaning, cursing, and heavy footsteps. Francis furrowed his eyebrows, clenching his hands into fists by his sides.

Once the lock on the door clicked, Francis' heart leaped, but he remained still and silent as Arthur pulled the door open. The first thing Francis noticed was Arthur's face. It was how he remembered it, of course, except now it was flushed, and dots of sweat were building on his forehead. And his face was twisted in pain.

Arthur's expression switched from annoyance to complete shock once he laid his eyes over Francis, his mouth opening to let out a gasp. Arthur stared as Francis stared.

Francis opened his mouth to speak but froze, his eyes locking on Arthur's arm. His jacket had a big slash in it, as well as his skin, blood still flowing from it. And he noticed Arthur's clothes were stained with red. Blood slipped down the side of Arthur's face from his eyebrow, dripping off his chin, Francis concluding one of his eyebrow rings had been ripped out.

"Arthur..what..what happened to you?", Francis breathed, finding his voice, his eyes slowly lifting to look into Arthur's. He wanted to do _something _but he couldn't.

"I got hurt.", Arthur stated with a frown. "What do you want?"

Francis closed his mouth and swallowed, "Why aren't you in a hospital?"

"I only got here recently."

Francis began to pant lightly, his heart beating heavily in his chest from worry, "Why haven't you called an ambulance?" Arthur gave a loud exaggerated sigh, "I don't want to deal with the bother." Arthur then tried to shut the door, but Francis grabbed onto the knob and pushed in, before he grabbed onto Arthur's shoulders lightly.

"We need to get you to a hospital. Now.", Francis growled, feeling light-headed from the blood. He hated blood. But he brushed the uncomfortable feeling away, completely worried about Arthur.

Arthur cringed, "Ow! Don't touch me, you fucking idiot!" Arthur shrugged him off and then cringed again from the pain.

Francis inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm himself down, "Stop with this bullshit. Come with me."

"No! I don't want you anywhere near me! Now get out of my flat!"

"If we don't get you to a hospital soon, you're going to die from blood loss by _yourself_, and I don't think you want that Arthur!", Francis shouted at him, balling his hands into fists. Arthur flinched, and took a few steps back.

And Francis noticed, so he sighed and placed a hand over his eyes, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. But _please_, just listen to me this once, and after you can ignore me all you want." Francis dropped his arm and looked into Arthur's eyes, his chest heaving slightly.

Arthur stared at him in a long pause, his eyebrows furrowed. Arthur pressed his lips together, and then sighed. "Fine. But let's go before I pass out, I feel nauseous and light-headed.", Arthur said before he pushed past Francis, out the door.

Francis bit on his bottom lip, wondering if they should call an ambulance.

* * *

><p>The whole time Arthur was tended to by doctors, Francis sat in the lobby, his mind filled with worry. And he also felt livid, at whoever did this to him. He wondered why. Why did they hurt him like this? Sure, he was impatient and snooty and sometimes selfish, but he kept to himself.<p>

Pushing those thoughts away, Francis crossed his legs repeatedly, jiggling his foot as he glared at the linoleum floor, ignoring all the other people sitting and walking and running about. It had been about an hour since he drove Arthur here, which he knew was stupid. He should have called an ambulance.

Nonetheless, he's been sitting here for an hour, praying for Arthur and hoping and wishing he would be safe. He felt like crying, his eyes watering, but he bit on his bottom lip and held his tears back, his hands clenching in his lap. He just wanted to know if Arthur was alright.

Hating that he was just sitting there, worrying himself to death, he stood and crossed the lobby to the bathrooms, and entered the men's before approaching the sinks. He turned the cold water on and splashed some on his face, trying to calm his nerves down.

He heaved a sigh and turned the water off before raising his arms to flatten his hair down with his wet hands. He raised his eyes to his reflection, noticing how his face was pale. Not caring, he turned and walked out of the bathroom and sat back in his previous seat.

After another hour of - calmer – waiting, a nurse walked out of the hallway leading to the hospital rooms, in Francis' direction. Francis raised his eyes to her as she approached him.

"Did you come here with..Arthur Kirkland?", she asked, glancing at the clipboard in her hands to read Arthur's name.

"Yes."

A tired smile spread over her lips, "You can see him now. And don't worry, he's fine. He just needs to rest. Please, try not to make him agitated." Francis paused and then nodded, feeling grateful she told him. He stood.

"Um..", he began, glancing at the hallway. "Oh, right. His room is 72, on the east wall.", she said before nodding and walking back into the hallway, to another patient's room. Francis remained standing there, his eyes feeling heavy.

With another heaved sigh, he began towards the hallway, his footsteps tapping against the linoleum. He eyed the numbers of the rooms on the east wall as he walked down the corridor, before he came to a stop at room 72. He heard the murmur of conversation wafting from the lobby, his heartbeat increasing in his chest.

He reached up to turn the knob and push lightly, the door sliding open quietly. He peeked in, seeing Arthur on a hospital bed, a heart monitor hooked into him. Francis almost smiled at hearing his heartbeat. It was too constant for him to be asleep, so Francis slipped into the lit room and softly shut the door behind him.

He turned back to face Arthur, remaining to stand at the door. He noticed his eyelids were closed, his chest raising and falling slowly, making Francis' heart ache at the beautiful sight – even though it wasn't the best of times.

It seemed like he was deep in slumber, but Francis noticed his eyelids open to look at him.

"What are you doing here?", Arthur spoke, frowning at the Frenchman. Francis exhaled the breath he's apparently been holding as he walked up to Arthur's side, pulling up a chair.

"I came to see how you're doing."

"I thought you said you'd leave me alone."

"Ah, I said you could ignore me, I never said I would abandon you."

Arthur sighed, expecting nothing less. "Why did they have to hook me up to a blasted heart monitor? It's totally unnessesary.", he complained, scratching at his wrist. Francis smiled, "Are you alright?"

Arthur paused, raising his eyes back to Francis'. He looked exhausted. "Why?"

"Because I want to know."

"No. Why do you care?"

"What are you talking about? Of course I would care."

"_Why?_"

Francis pressed his lips together. He lowered his eyes to Arthur's hand resting on the bed. He remained silent, in thought. Then, he sighed.

"I..I guess I could explain, now."

Arthur arched the brow that had a bandage on it, making him twitch. Francis furrowed his eyebrows.

"Uh, well..I care because..we didn't meet two months ago."

"What?"

"What I mean is, we met when you were only three. I was seven.", Francis said, raising his eyes to Arthur's. Arthur simply stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Okay, so I know that your father runs the Kirkland company, as my father and mother runs our own, and that is how we met. Our parents agreed to have a dinner or something of that sort, and decided on bringing their children. So, I met you and your two brothers."

Francis watched Arthur make a few different expressions; confused, angry, and then blank. Francis listened to his heartbeat as he stared into Arthur's emerald eyes.

"That still doesn't explain why you care. Why spend countless money going back and from France to here, why just hand me over so much money and a bloody phone and why _care _that I was bleeding to death-"

"Arthur.", Francis said, cutting him off. Arthur closed his mouth and raised his eyes to Francis' aqua irises with a frustrated look. He clenched his hands on the bed.

"I..care..", Francis began, furrowing his eyebrows. He exhaled as he closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking back in Arthur's. He reached up to hold Arthur's hand on the bed, Francis' heart beating rapidly in his chest. Arthur was watching him with a confused expression, not bothering to move his hand away.

Francis' cheeks burned, his eyes searching in Arthur's. "I care because I'm in love with you."

He noticed Arthur's pause, the hand in his tightening. Then he heard his heart beat increase on the heart monitor, Francis noticing how his cheeks flushed very lightly, almost unnoticeable. But, throughout these positive signs, Arthur's expression grew fouler.

Francis' heart dropped once Arthur pulled his hand away and remained silent. Francis watched as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't want to hear this right now.", Arthur dead-panned, looking away. Francis returned his own hand into his lap, tightening it into a light fist. He exhaled before he stood.

"Okay. I just want you to keep that in mind, then.", he said with a sad smile before he walked around to the foot of the bed, pausing, facing the door.

"Just..please, for me, listen to what your feelings have to say. Whether they're bad or not, please don't be afraid to tell me.", he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Then, he walked to the door and opened it. Once again, he paused, keeping his hand on the door knob.

"Oh, and, I hope you get well soon, Arthur. I hope the best for you."

With that, he opened the door and walked out, quietly shutting it behind him, leaving Arthur in the nearly-empty room.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun hung high in the sky as Arthur was led out of the hospital by a nurse, his bottle green eyes boring into the taunting blue sky. He ignored the nurse as he said to get well, Arthur's eyes scowling at the clouds and the trees and the people walking to and from the parking lot. He clenched his hands into fists as the nurse returned to the interior of the hospital, his eyebrows knitting together, Arthur ignoring the stinging pain emitting from them.

He had to stay there for a week, letting the gash in his arm "have a chance to heal", as his nurse had said. Then he was told to do more relaxing activities. Nothing rough. Which included wanking off.

And during that week, he had eaten shitty hospital food – although, he did enjoy the bland tea to an extent. Anyways, he had to sit on his butt for a week, doing nothing. Besides, either staring at a TV screen, reading the poor selection of books the hospital provided, or let his thoughts wander to what Francis said.

Whenever his thoughts betrayed him and reminded him of the topic he tried to avoid, his cheeks would flush and his heart would accelerate (they took the heart monitor away after the first night) and his hands would go weak, a tingling sensation would run through his body and core.

Basically, what he said had effected him. It made him consider different feelings and outcomes. And, it also spiked his imagination.

And now that a week had passed of his thoughts going wild, he knew the signs he made – his heart beating wildly, his palms growing sweaty, his face flushing – provided enough evidence. He realized he's been denying and avoiding the flat-out evidence of his feelings.

But even now, he still denied them, even though he knew.

His eyes drifted over the beautiful plants and trees hugging the walls of the hospital, before pausing on the bench positioned against one of the walls. His legs and sides had begun to ache from standing, so he made his way towards it, his hips hurting each time he stepped down. He ignored the pain as he walked to it and sat down, a small hiss escaping his lips at the pressure on his bruises.

He gingerly rubbed his hips and arms, which were dotted with wide bruises, as he frowned. After relaxing and letting out a sigh, he studied his arm, staring at the bandage wrapped around it. He wondered when his stitches could be removed. Another sigh escaped him, from annoyance. A bad scar would form.

A large tree shadowed the bench, pots of flowers lining the walls. Arthur stared at a pot of roses before glancing at one full of poppies. His lips twitched in warning of a smile. He always loved flowers. He used to help his mother with her garden. Roses was her favorite flower. It wasn't Arthur's, though. His favorite were poppies.

Then, he exhaled, and began to think of his mother. He could still imagine her long brown hair and her beautiful smile and her gentle hands and slender arms. She was pretty slim, and her waist could easily fit in the loop of Arthur's seven year-old arms. A smile finally overtook Arthur's frown as he imagined hugging her again.

But then, a wave of nostalgia rushed through him. He missed her. He wanted to garden with her again and read with her and watch movies with her as she ran her long fingers through his short hair and cook him dinners and comfort him when he was lonely. Arthur bit on his bottom lip.

What would she look like if she was still alive? Would she be proud of him?

Or would she be disgusted that he's attracted to men? Would she be disappointed her innocent, little boy turned into a selfish, ignorant man?

Arthur stared at the concrete as he clenched his hands in his lap, trying to force those thoughts away. He heaved a heavy sigh, trying to relax. But his shoulders remained tense.

He released his fists to reach into his jean's pocket and pull out his cellphone and flip it open. He dialed the taxi company's number and held it to his ear. Once they picked up, he told them the hospital's address.

The taxi arrived in only ten minutes, the vehicle slowing to a stop in front of the sidewalk. Arthur stood before he walked to the taxi, furrowing his eyebrows from the ache in his shoulders and back. After opening the door and getting in the backseat, he told the driver his apartment's address and then slammed the door shut.

He stared out the window as the taxi pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes drifting over the people and sky. He studied the clouds with little interest.

By the time the taxi pulled into the apartment's parking lot, Arthur's eyelids grew heavy. He had trouble sleeping in the hospital from the stiff beds and the uneasy feeling, and now he was exhausted. Once the driver gained his attention, he tiredly reached into his pocket to pull out money and hand the fare to him.

He unbuckled his seat belt before he opened the car's door and stepped out, before he shut it behind him. He stood there as the taxi backed out of the parking lot, looking up at the exterior of the apartment complex.

With a sigh, he began towards the stairs, walking past the lobby's door. His feet tapped against the concrete as he climbed the stairs, his eyes downcast. After walking down the balcony to his apartment's door, he reached into his pocket to take out his key and raise it to the lock.

Once he unlocked it, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and walked in before shutting the door behind him softly. He paused and blinked, noticing how the carpet wasn't stained with blood anymore. Well, once Arthur got a closer look, there were faint stains of pink in the tan color of the carpet, as if the blood couldn't be removed completely.

And he also noticed his bedsheets weren't stained either. In fact, they were replaced with a much more plush comforter. The new covers were black, as well as the pillow case to match it.

Then, he realized it was done by Francis. Arthur sighed, grateful once again that Francis had taken the time to help him. He clenched his hands, embarrassed at how irresponsible he was. He stared at the carpet before he took off his boots and walked to the bed, sitting down. He groped the comforter with his hand, the texture comfortable on his skin.

He took off his ripped jacket and tossed it on the ground before he gingerly lifted his shirt above his head, trying not to hurt his arm. But instead a stinging pain sizzled throughout his torso and mostly in his wounded forearm, Arthur gritting his teeth as he let the shirt fall onto the ground.

Not bothering to deal with the labor of taking off his jeans, he gently laid down onto the comforter, resting his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes with an exhale, feeling how tense his shoulders were. He needed a back rub.

Once he got the motivation to slip underneath the thick comforter, he sighed, once again thankful. He rested his stitched arm on the top of the blanket, and hoped he wouldn't roll over in his sleep. Then, he let his thoughts wander.

The room smelled like Francis and bleach.

* * *

><p>The next morning, around six a.m, Arthur didn't bother to take a shower. Or get up. Or open his eyes. Instead, he remained silent, trying to drift back to sleep. And he succeeded.<p>

So after getting another four hours of sleep, he had decided to get up. After glancing at the alarm clock, he stood and stretched his arms out above his head, straining his bruised shoulders with a groan. He exhaled as he dropped his arms and walked to the closet. He slid the door open and reached up to take his sweater off the hanger.

He stared at it in his hands, thinking of Francis.

After slipping it on over his head, he pushed his arms through the sleeves slowly and then pulled it down over his waist. It made him sigh at the comfort, his eyes closing with a long blink. Then he looked in the closet for a different pair of jeans, the one he worn over the night growing uncomfortable.

But, none of them looked suitable. He pushed aside the few pairs he had with discouragement, his lips curling into a frown. He had to go shopping for clothes. He had decided to, delicately, change into a pair of sweatpants he had discovered when he was cleaning awhile ago.

The floorboards beneath his feet creaked as he walked to the bathroom. He reached out to push it open with his palm, glancing in after flipping the light on. This too was also wiped clean. When he woke up from that night and returned to the apartment, he was still bleeding. So he had attempted to stop it, but instead he got blood all over the tile and sink and mirror.

Arthur smiled lightly, thanking Francis in his head.

He walked in front of the sink, looking up into the mirror. His face was blank. His eyebrow had a big bandage on it still and his bottom lip had a cut on it.

He remained silent as he raised his hands to carefully slip his snake bites out before he reached back to take out his earrings one by one before he set them on the sink. After taking out his eyebrow ring in his good eyebrow, he opened his mouth and looked at his tongue piercing, debating whether or not to take it out. Closing his mouth, he decided he'll remove it later.

He stared at himself, studying his plain looking face without the piercings. He attempted to smile, but his lips formed into a grimace. He sighed and brushed his fingertips over his lips, wondering what Francis would think of him without piercings.

Then he turned to switch the light off and walk out of the bathroom, his eyes downcast. He walked to his jacket resting on the ground beside the bed, before he gently crouched down and grabbed it with his hand. He stood and looked at the red leather jacket in his hands.

It had studs and pins on it. The front had a broken zipper, and the cuffs had small buckles. He thumbed the leather before he lifted the sleeve and slid his fingertips over the long cut in the fabric, Arthur pressing his lips together.

He threw it on the bed, deciding not to wear it. So, he grabbed his phone and cigarettes before he walked to the door and pulled it open. After locking it behind him, he turned to look out at the presentation the day provided.

It wasn't too sunny. Clouds were dotting the sky, covering the sun. It wasn't chilly but it wasn't hot. It was perfect for Arthur right now. He pulled at a pant leg to his sweatpants before he walked to the staircase, his phone and cigarette pack in his hand.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, it was sunnier and hotter. Now sitting at a park, Arthur watched as adults and teenagers walked down the long pathway winding through the tall trees. He had decided to visit the park to just sit and think. Also to escape his apartment.<p>

The trees rustled in the light breeze, the sun warming Arthur's covered arms and back as he sat on one of the many benches, a place he chose to be able to see the trees. He was glad he still had the chance to go out and enjoy nature before it grew colder.

He finally had a smile on his lips once a long-haired stray cat approached him, Arthur having a chance to run his hand over it's white fur, petting it's back and scratching behind it's ears. It had very long whiskers and a pink nose. It had meowed at him before it turned and sauntered away, leaving Arthur with a small smile of disappointment.

Now, he was leaning against the bench, a lit cigarette between his fingers, his eyes fixed on one of the trees. The first thing he thought of was growing his own garden. But he knew he couldn't. There wasn't any room or resources in his apartment. He wanted to grow roses. And a variety of flowers and perhaps vegetables and fruit. He never considered gardening, but now it seemed interesting, a new experience.

He thought about moving to a different apartment, one with a kitchen. And then he could practice cooking. He could also get a tea set and a kettle to make tea daily. Arthur paused and then smiled, realizing how different he was acting. He was never interested in tea or plants or being clean or _caring_. Perhaps, he's changed. For the better, hopefully.

With a content sigh, Arthur lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, before he flicked the ash onto the pavement.

What was Francis up to? Arthur dropped his eyes to the ground, and rubbed his lips with his fingers. Was he doing alright? When was he going to come back? He wanted him to come back. He wanted to talk to him again. And apologize.

Arthur smiled lightly behind his fingers once he imagined Francis' own, unique smile and his voice and his laughter. Arthur's face flushed, feeling his heart flutter. He tapped his bottom lip with his fingertips, his smile spreading out into a grin.

Then, he hid his face in his hands, the cigarette between his fore and middles fingers. "Oh my god..", Arthur murmured into his palms, his smile ceasing to die down.

He hated being in love. It drove him mad with embarrassment and wanting. It's been so long since he's felt this way. About four years.

After lowering his hands, he sighed before he took a long drag on his cigarette. He wanted to see Francis. "Bastard..", Arthur mumbled, discouraged Francis had left so soon after they re-united after so long. Even if it was under bad circumstances.

It had grown hotter, and another hour passed before Arthur grew bored of sitting there, completely enveloped with his thoughts of Francis. So, he had stood, a pain in his butt from sitting for so long, before he began towards his apartment, slightly tired from the warmth of the sun.

* * *

><p><strong>Three days later<strong>

Arthur had been pretty relaxed and laid-back. Before, he was always tense and agitated, but for the past few days, he had decided to push away all the negative thoughts. Or, at least he tried to.

He had visited the same bookstore to have small chats with the Hungarian girl, and purchase quite a few books that fit his interest. Then, he had decided to eat at the familiar restaurant a few times, and to be kinder and friendly to the waitress he was rude to previously.

His wounded arm had begun to heal, showing more evidence of it's progress. In about a week or two, he could return to the hospital to get his stitches removed. Only a few of his bruises had disappeared, but still a lot remained dotting his limbs. His muscles had stopped hurting each time he crouched down or went out for a walk.

But as more days passed, the more he thought about Francis not returning. He considered him not caring anymore, and now hating him for denying his love. Maybe now he's moved on and decided to remain in Paris.

And each time he thought about this, the more his mood dropped. His shoulders had begun to grow tense more often and his back began to ache from the knots in them due to stress.

More often than not, he wouldn't go out as much. He would lay or sit on his bed, filled with worry, until he got the urge to get up and stop being a child.

Now, he was sitting at the window, staring out at the pouring rain, his elbow propped up on the window sill, his chin in his hand. His eyes stared at the sheets of rain, his ears listening to the heavy patter of rain against the roof of the apartment.

He wanted Francis to be beside him. He wanted him to hold him, to keep him warm. What he wanted most, was for Francis to hear his rapid heartbeat. To see his flushed cheeks and feel his sweaty palms and to look into his dilated eyes.

Arthur clenched his hand and sighed, feeling lonely. If only Francis would return.

Fed up with being miserable, Arthur stood from the armchair and walked to the bed. He reached down to lift his phone off the nightstand before he flipped it open. He opened the list of numbers, before he scrolled down to Francis' contact. He stared at it, his eyes blank in thought and consideration.

Before he could decide against it, he opened the contact and pressed call. He exhaled heavily as he lifted the phone to his ear, his hand clenched into a fist by his side.

His heart accelerated as he listened to the first few rings, Arthur running his tongue over his bottom lip nervously. The other line picked up after three rings.

"_Allô?_", he heard Francis greet. Arthur's mouth went dry and he paused, his eyes frozen on the sheets of the bed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He licked his lips again.

"Uh..h-hello.", he said quietly, his ears burning, his palms growing sweaty. There was a pause on the other end. It lasted long, making Arthur's fingers tremble in worry.

"Arthur?", he heard him say, the voice doubting, anxious. Arthur pressed his lips together in concentration.

"Yes.", he raised his voice from a whisper, getting the strength to turn and walk back to the window, sitting in the arm chair. He stared out at the rain.

"Is anything wrong? Are you safe?", Arthur heard him ask, his heart clenching with – there was really no other word to describe it – love. Arthur's lips curved into a small smile.

"No. I mean, yes, I'm safe."

Another pause, "What's the matter?"

Arthur bit on his bottom lip before he opened his mouth to speak, "I.." He began, but closed his mouth. He exhaled, "I-I want you to come back." He dropped his eyes to the window sill, listening to Francis' soft breathing.

Still, no response. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm so lonely..", he said. Arthur frowned, clenching his hand in his lap. He heard Francis exhale.

"Okay. I'll be there shortly."

Arthur paused, but before he could reply, Francis ended the call.

* * *

><p>Two and a half hours passed of Arthur waiting, filled with worry. Did he seem to clingy? Was he too straight-forward?<p>

He was sitting on the end of his bed, staring at the floor, his hands resting in his lap. He was wearing his sweatpants and the sweater he had worn a week ago (except he had washed them since then), all his piercings still missing from his facial features. The rain still fell down from the sky, making Arthur drowsy, but he didn't dare go to sleep.

He ran his tongue over his lips for the hundredth time. Then, he heard two soft knocks on the door, making his heart jump.

He raised his emerald eyes to the door, before he pushed off the bed. He exhaled, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Then he walked quietly towards the door, his feet padding against the carpet. His palms had gone incredibly sweaty again.

He reached out to unlock the door with a click before he gripped the handle and turned it. He exhaled one last time before he slid the door open, raising his eyes to see Francis standing there.

His hair was soaked, matted down to his neck and face. His clothes were dripping onto the dry pavement of the balcony. Apparently, he hadn't brought an umbrella.

Arthur's grip on the handle tightened, his other hand grabbing onto the front of his sweater. His eyes met with Francis', Arthur noticing how they looked tired but bright.

Neither of them spoke as they stared at each other, until Arthur shivered from the cold. "Oh. Um, right. Come in, then.", he said, realizing that he was being rude. He stepped to the side, watching as Francis nodded and paced into the room, his hair and clothes dripping onto the carpet.

Arthur bit on his bottom lip as he shut and locked the door behind him. He turned to face Francis, curling his toes nervously into the carpet. He watched as Francis unbuttoned his soaked trench coat, before he slid it off his shoulders, revealing his wet dress shirt.

Arthur noticed how it stuck to his skin, framing his slightly-muscular abdomen, his broad shoulders and lean arms. And his nipples. Arthur's cheeks flushed a deeper red, his ears burning.

He couldn't help but stare, but then blinked and walked into the bathroom to grab a towel. He returned to see Francis taking off his shoes, placing them in front of the door. Arthur kept blushing and he hated it.

With the towel clenched in his hands, he approached Francis, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, watching as the Frenchman looked up at him with his fascinating blue eyes. Arthur felt like he was going to melt. He wanted to hide his blush from Francis but he couldn't.

"Um, can I..?", Arthur spoke, his eyes fixed on Francis'. God, he couldn't stop blushing and his ears kept burning and his heart remained hammering.

Francis stayed silent, staring back into Arthur's eyes. Arthur pressed his lips together as he hesitantly raised his arms to place the towel over Francis' head, but not over his face, before he began to squeeze Francis' locks into the towel. He averted his eyes as he ruffled the towel into his hair, forcing the water out into the fabric.

Once he returned his eyes to Francis, he noticed he was smiling. Arthur bit on his bottom lip, feeling incredibly attracted to it. He wanted to kiss the smile on his lips. His hands froze on the towel.

He noticed how Francis' cheeks were a bright red too. Arthur took a step closer, so now they were almost touching. Then he slowly moved one of his hands down from the towel, over Francis' cheek and collarbone, before he rested it over his heart. It was beating just as fast as his.

Arthur smiled lightly and then moved his other hand down to wrap his arms around Francis' neck, pulling him close. He felt Francis freeze, and then wrap his arms around Arthur's back, squeezing him close to his chest. Arthur ignored the pain that surged through his torso from his bruises. He felt his own clothes grow wet.

Arthur placed a hand over the back of Francis' neck, and leaned in to inhale, smelling rain and Francis' cologne. He sighed lightly.

The only sounds he heard was the hum of the rain, and Francis' breathing. He felt the hand on his back move up and down gently, stroking his back lovingly. Arthur felt like he was going to melt again. He opened his mouth to speak.

"F..Francis..", he whispered, "..I love you." He felt Francis tighten his arms around him, his wet hair dripping onto Arthur's shoulder and hand. "I love you too.", he heard him breathe, "So much."

Arthur felt his eyes water, his bottom lip trembling. "Okay."

He noticed how Francis gently pulled back to look at him, his eyes staring lovingly into Arthur's. "Can..I kiss you?", he asked in a whisper, smiling lightly. Arthur felt like he was going to sob if he opened his mouth, so instead he nodded weakly.

So, Francis slid his hands up his back and around his shoulders to hold his cheeks, searching in Arthur's eyes before he closed his own and leaned in to gently place his lips over Arthur's.

Arthur gripped onto Francis' dress shirt and closed his eyes before he kissed back wholeheartedly, feeling Francis stroke his flushed cheek with his thumb. Arthur felt like his heart was going to burst with how fast it was beating, his hands feeling like jelly as their lips began to move together softly.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows lightly as he began to passionately move his lips with Francis', sliding his hand down the Frenchman's neck and around to rest on his chest.

Francis pulled back once he ran out of breath, his chest rising and falling slightly as he panted lightly, his eyes fixed on Arthur's. Arthur smiled.

"Can I touch you?", Francis asked quietly, moving his hands back down to rest on Arthur's back.

"Yes.", Arthur replied, excited. He didn't dare avert his eyes from Francis', afraid he would disappear. Francis took his time to slide his hand down to the small of his back, resting his hand on the curve before he slipped his fingers lower to curl them around the hem of Arthur's sweater.

Arthur swallowed, and remained staring into Francis' eyes. He felt Francis move his long fingers past the hem of his sweater, touching his skin with the pads of his fingertips. Arthur shivered as he ran his hand up underneath the fabric, his fingers pressing lightly. They were cold from the rain, but then they grew hot on Arthur's skin.

Wanted silence dragged out as Francis slipped his hands over Arthur's sides under his sweater, their eyes locked. Arthur paused once Francis began to slide his sweater up his torso, the blush on his cheeks burning.

He let him gently pull it over his head, their eyes disconnecting for a moment. Arthur's heart continued to beat heavily in his chest, his palms sweaty. He watched as Francis tossed his sweater onto the floor before he began to run his hands over his chest, brushing his fingers over his nipples and the indents of his ribcage, making Arthur shiver again.

Arthur clenched his hands by his sides, his legs growing weak from Francis' warm hands that explored over his skin. He had difficultly breathing, his breaths now coming out as short pants as Francis' hands wandered higher, over his collarbone and shoulders.

Arthur gained some confidence and raised his hands to carefully unbutton Francis' dress shirt, one button at a time, not wanting to rush things at all. He was stuck on one, so he glanced down from Francis' eyes to his hands and finally pushed the button through the slit before he raised his eyes back to Francis', embarrassed.

Francis was smiling at him softly, Arthur staring as the Frenchman leaned in to peck him on the lips and then the forehead. Arthur's hands grew numb, frozen on Francis' shirt. He watched as Francis pulled back to stare into his eyes as he pulled his dress shirt off his shoulders, tossing it to the floor.

Then, Francis gently took hold of Arthur's hands that were frozen in front of him, before he flattened them out on his chest, a smile on his lips. He kept his hands over Arthur's, until Arthur's hands thawed and began to move over his chest.

Arthur could feel the hairs tickle his fingers and palms, his eyes dropping to stare at Francis' chest. He felt Francis move his hands back to his skin, his palms and fingers running over his back. Arthur slid his hands up over his shoulders and up to his chin, running his fingertips over the bristle hairs covering his chin.

Then he touched Francis' lips, a small, meek smile spreading over his lips. Francis smiled before he pecked his fingertip. Arthur laughed, feeling a little better, more relaxed and confident. He moved his hands to run his fingers through Francis' wet hair.

Arthur paused once Francis dipped his head to kiss at his neck, sliding his hand down the small of his back. He felt his hands move to the front of his sweatpants, hooking a few fingers around the waistband before Francis began to pull them down slowly along with Arthur's underwear.

Arthur could feel his ears grow hot once Francis let his clothes fall to the floor. He never expected to feel this self-conscious when he was nude. He could feel Francis slide his hands over his backside once before moving them up his sides.

He felt Francis continue to kiss at his neck and jaw, Arthur feeling him bite softly. His hands were warm on his skin, Arthur getting the motivation to move his own hands over Francis' chest and stomach. He stopped his hands at Francis' waist and then began to unbuckle his belt, feeling Francis' lips pause before they began to work again. Once he unbuttoned and unzipped Francis' slacks, he pushed them down with his briefs.

Arthur blushed as he stared at Francis' cock between his thighs, his heart beating faster. He heard Francis chuckle before he felt him hook his hands under his knees and lift him up, Arthur gasping in surprise. He wrapped his arms around Francis' neck as Francis walked to the bed, before he was gently laid down on the plush comforter.

Francis straddled Arthur's waist, placing his hands on both sides of his head. Arthur stared up at him with flushed cheeks, not sure what to do with his hands. Then, he looked down to Francis' waist again, and couldn't help but stare.

He felt Francis kiss him on the neck and shoulder repeatedly before pressing his lips to his jaw. Then he lifted his lips to his ear, "It's rude to stare, Arthur."

Arthur averted his eyes, "Sorry." Francis laughed as he laid down beside Arthur, "_Non_, you don't have to apologize." Arthur looked over at Francis, noticing how he was propped up on an elbow, his blue eyes fixed on him.

"Where have you been?", Arthur asked as he turned onto his side, facing Francis, his arm sliding underneath the pillow. Francis pulled the comforter over them, "Paris. I didn't expect your call to take so long."

"I avoided it."

"Hm.."

Francis smiled at him as he scooted closer, so their noses were almost touching. Arthur draped his leg over Francis', as he rested his other arm over his waist. Quickly, it grew a comfortable warm. Arthur exhaled in contentment, closing his eyes as he rested his head on the pillow. He felt Francis begin to stroke his bangs back with his fingertips repeatedly.

It remained silent for a few minutes, Arthur keeping his eyes closed as Francis ran his hand over his hair over and over, soothing him. Arthur kept his arm draped over Francis' waist. It was incredibly peaceful and relaxing, Arthur fearing he would drift off to sleep.

So, he opened his eyes to look at Francis, who was still watching him. Arthur's heart fluttered to life again. He moved his hand from Francis' waist to place it over one of his cheeks, feeling how hot it was. Arthur smiled softly.

"I'm sorry."

Francis hummed questionably, "For what?"

Arthur felt his chest knot up, "For..being ignorant. And for saying all those things I said before. Even before..our argument." Francis stopped stroking his hair. He moved his hand to place it over Arthur's on his cheek.

"Arthur, it's okay. I accept your apology. But, you know I didn't mean what I said. About your mother. I never meant to say that. And I don't think that way, either."

"I know."

"_Merci._"

Arthur paused, "What does that mean?" Francis laughed lightly and pulled Arthur's hand from his cheek to hold it on the bed. He rested his head on the same pillow, facing Arthur, "It means thank you. Perhaps you should learn French, _oui_?"

"Never."

Francis laughed again, "I'll fight for it."

"Okay.", Arthur replied before he leaned forward to press their lips together strongly, closing his eyes. He felt Francis squeeze his hand before he began to kiss back. Arthur felt like he was going to melt from all the love he felt, and it felt wonderful. Their lips moved together passionately, Arthur's heart beating rapidly in his chest.

He pulled back to inhale, opening his eyes to look into Francis' blue, mesmerizing irises. Francis smiled before he pecked him on the cheek, then rested his head back down, their noses touching.

Arthur stared into his eyes.

"Does..this mean you're gay?"

Francis paused and then laughed, "No, I'm not." Arthur froze. Francis continued to smile, "I'm attracted to both men and women." Arthur rolled his eyes and then pulled his hand away from Francis' to slap him on the shoulder, "Idiot." Francis grinned. Arthur returned it as he slid his hand back into Francis'.

"Wasn't it obvious? Why did you ask?"

Arthur's smile formed into a frown, his lips pressed together. "I..", Arthur began, "..was worried that you were only here to fuck me." Francis' smile faltered slightly, "Doesn't 'I love you' say enough?" Arthur paused and then sighed, "I guess not."

Francis smiled, "All that matters is that you know I truly am in love with you and I would never take advantage of you." Arthur smiled, "Thank you." Francis nodded and squeezed his hand lightly as he leaned forward to peck him on the lips.

Arthur kissed back before he scooted closer to nuzzle his face into Francis' neck, pulling his hand away from Francis' to wrap it around his waist. He felt Francis slide his arms around his back, pulling him close. Arthur closed his eyes and listened to Francis' soft breathing. He could feel Francis' pulse through his neck, making him smile lightly.

They remained silent for awhile, only enjoying each others warmth and comfort. Arthur felt drowsy, completely content at the moment.

"..Arthur?"

"Mm?"

"Now that I realize it, that was the first time you addressed me by my name."

Arthur paused. He remained silent.

"So..?"

"Just an observation."

Arthur exhaled as he ran his hand over Francis' side, "I'm tired." Francis hummed, sliding his hand up to run his fingers through Arthur's short hair, "Then go to sleep." Arthur smiled lightly as Francis pressed his lips to his forehead, "You better not leave."

Francis laughed, "I won't."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Arthur opened his eyes to see the skin of Francis' neck, and heard his soft breathing and felt his arms around his waist. Arthur sighed, and then closed his eyes again, not wanting to disturb him.<p>

But before he could drift off back to sleep, he felt Francis stir, the arms around his waist moving slightly. He heard him yawn, Arthur smiling. Arthur began to draw circles and squares into Francis' skin with his finger.

"Good morning, Arthur."

"Morning."

They didn't have sex. Instead of doing what Arthur had expected, they had decided to sleep together, completely relaxed with each others nudity. It made Arthur smile at the thought. Not having to hide anything out of shame.

Arthur pulled away from Francis and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He blinked and looked around the room, seeing sunlight ooze in through the window, casting light over the carpet. He sighed before he slid the blanket off his legs and began to stand but an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Arthur looked back at Francis, "I'm taking a shower." The Frenchman kept his arm around his waist, "Where's my morning kiss?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Right here.", he tapped his lips before he pushed his arm away and stood. He walked into the bathroom, leaving Francis on the bed. Or, he thought he left him. He heard the bed creak and the blankets rustle as Francis stood and followed him into the bathroom.

"Was that a challenge?"

Arthur reached in past the shower curtain to turn the knob, "No. You asked where your 'morning kiss' was so I told you." Francis walked up behind him and kissed the back of his head, "Can I have a kiss, then?"

Arthur paused and then turned to face him. He raised his hands to place them over Francis' ears on both sides of his head. "Only because you asked.", he said, searching in his eyes before he leaned forward to strongly kiss him over the lips, closing his eyes.

He felt Francis place his hands on his hips as he began to press back. But, Arthur pulled away after a few seconds, earning a disappointed face from Francis.

Arthur smiled then patted him on the cheek before he turned to step into the shower, the warm water wetting down his hair. Francis, without hesitation, got in after him, sliding his arms around Arthur's waist.

After Francis helped him wash his hair and body, Arthur having difficultly with his wounded arm, he quickly washed his own hair with the cheap shampoo Arthur had. Once they both got out, Francis instantly began to plant kisses over Arthur's lips, earning a palm to his face.

Discouraged, Francis silently stood (his own clothes were still soaked) beside Arthur, constantly peeking glances at him as he got dressed.

Steam emitted from the bathroom once Arthur pushed the door open, his hands ruffling his hair to shake the water out. Francis followed behind, still naked. Arthur sighed as he turned to face him.

"I guess I can lend you some clothes while yours dry.", he said, his eyes drifting over Francis' chest. Francis snorted, "You expect me to wear a pair of your tight jeans? And they would be too small anyways."

Arthur frowned, "Fine. Just cover yourself up, then." With that, Arthur turned to grab Francis' wet clothes before he left the apartment, down to the laundry room to put them in a dryer.

Once Arthur left, Francis glanced around, noticing how it was cleaner than it was when he was here last. He smiled lightly, then walked to the bed, his eyes drifting over the wall of photographs that always seemed to catch his attention.

Then he glanced down at the nightstand, seeing the journal he bought Arthur. Francis hesitated before he reached down to grab it, curious if Arthur had even written in it. He unlatched the magnet before he flipped it open. Sure enough, the first page had words on it. It had only one sentence, so he turned to the next page.

The next page was full. Not bothering to read it and invade Arthur's privacy, he thumbed past a few more pages, seeing how all of them were full with Arthur's chicken-scratch handwriting. He read the dates in the corners, seeing how all of them were since their argument. He heard the door open. He snapped the journal shut and clipped the magnet back before setting it back on the nightstand.

He turned to see Arthur walking into the apartment. Once Arthur lifted his bottle green eyes to him, he furrowed his eyebrows.

"What are you doing? I said cover yourself up.", he complained, averting his eyes from Francis' body. Francis remained silent as Arthur yanked his boots off. Francis smiled as he approached him, "I like being naked."

"Well, I don't.", Arthur said as he placed his boots in the closet before he walked to the bed and stripped it of it's comforter. "Come here.", Arthur looked up at him.

Francis grinned as he walked to him, "Are you babying me?" Arthur rolled his eyes, "Shut up and lift your arms." Francis raised his arms, watching as Arthur wrapped the blanket around his body, then placed his hands on Francis' biceps to lower his arms.

"Do you have a brush?", Francis asked, adjusting the blanket around him. Arthur nodded, "Yeah, but I never use it." As he said this, he walked to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open to dig in past all the unorganized junk in there to grab his brush.

Francis sat on the bed, wringing his hair out onto the carpet, his head dipping to the side. Arthur sat beside him, watching him as he shook his long locks out.

"Hey, can you sit on the floor?", Arthur asked, Francis raising his eyes to his. "Why?"

"I want to brush your hair."

Francis paused and then smiled, "Alright." He scooted off the edge and positioned himself on the floor, his back resting against the bed. Arthur moved over to place his legs on both sides of Francis, hugging them to his sides. Francis wrapped his arms loosely around his calves, placing his hands on Arthur's feet.

He felt Arthur's hands rest on his head before they flattened his hair out. Francis closed his eyes and crossed his legs on the floor, feeling Arthur separate his locks on his shoulders. Arthur took his time to touch his hair and run his fingers through it.

Francis didn't mind, so he kept silent and his eyes closed. When Arthur began to run the brush through his hair, it was slightly rough but he could tell he was trying to be gentle. At one point, he caught onto a knot, so he held onto that lock of hair before he ran the brush over it repeatedly, sorting it out.

"I noticed you removed all your piercings.", Francis mumbled, extremely comfortable and content with Arthur brushing his hair. The brush never faltered.

"I did."

"Can I ask why?"

That's when the brush paused before it began to stroke his hair again. "I..remembered you saying a while ago that you thought they ruined my", Arthur paused to add emphasis, "'pretty face', so I took them out."

"For _moi_?"

"What?"

Francis laughed, "For me?" Arthur yanked his hair, "Shut up. Yes, for you. And because they were bothersome." Francis patted his foot, "You are so sweet."

"I said shut up!", Arthur yanked his hair again, earning another laugh from Francis.

Another ten minutes passed of Arthur just brushing his hair and them talking, before Francis complained his butt began to hurt.

"Then get on the bed with me.", Arthur said, pulling the brush from Francis' hair. The Frenchman slid his arms from around Arthur's legs before he stood, grabbing the blanket from falling. He climbed onto the bed beside Arthur, the Brit turning to face him, raising his legs to rest them on the bed.

Francis smiled before he unwrapped the blanket from around his body to wrap it around Arthur and himself, huddling them close together. Arthur blinked and then frowned.

"How am I supposed to brush your hair like this?"

"_Doux_, I think my hair is fine."

Arthur looked disappointed before he grumbled and set the brush on the nightstand. Francis laughed lightly, "Do you like brushing my hair?"

Arthur's cheeks tinted a delicate pink, "Yes." Francis leaned in to peck his lips to a rosy cheek. Arthur smiled lightly.

Then they laid down, their heads on the pillow, facing each other, their noses touching, their legs tangled. Arthur's hands were moving over Francis' chest and stomach, feeling the hairs brush the sides of his fingers.

Francis was slipping Arthur's sweatpants and underwear down, his hands moving back up his thighs once he pushed it down to his knees. After he removed Arthur's sweater, he pulled the covers over their heads, shielding the sunlight. Only a faint trace of light could be seen past the cotton, allowing vision to see each other.

Then, they began to touch each other like they had waited for for a month. Their hands running over each others arousal, their pants filling the space inside the blanket.

It was only thirty minutes later, after they both finished, when Arthur slipped out of the bed to pull his sweatpants back up and left the apartment to fetch Francis' clothes from the dryer.

* * *

><p>The next day, they went to visit the restaurant.<p>

The sunlight poured in through the windows, casting long shadows from the standing condiments on the table they sat at. Arthur was spinning his rings on his fingers, his eyes raised to Francis' aqua irises as the Frenchman talked to him about Paris.

"It's much more beautiful and tolerable than London."

Arthur stopped spinning a ring, "Oh shut up, London is fine." Francis chuckled into his hand, "Right, right. If you like rain all the time, that is."

"And, I do."

"And that is exactly why I said that."

Arthur had to restrain a few laughs himself, "Okay, what else is so _marvelous _about Paris?" Francis grinned, "Well, it has many things to choose from to do during the day."

"Like?"

"There's just walking to enjoy the view, visit a café, reading at a park, admiring the tourist attractions, having a picnic, and many more."

"It sounds like you're trying to sell me property."

Francis laughed, "_Oui_, in a way I am."

Arthur arched a brow, "In what way?" Francis smiled lightly as he crossed his legs, "I want you to live with me in Paris." Arthur paused and stared into his eyes.

"_Me? _You want to live in a house with _me_? I'm not a very nice..erm, house partner.", Arthur said before he lifted his glass of water to take a drink.

Francis adjusted in his seat, "Well, you're my boyfriend, aren't you?" Arthur sputtered on his water and then covered his mouth as he set his glass down, his eyes raising to Francis. He wiped his lips off, "I..guess. But we've only been.._together_ for a day."

Francis shook his head, "_Non_, a few months." Arthur rolled his eyes, "We've _known _each other for a few months-"

"Twenty years."

"Yeah, whatever, twenty years. But we've been.._in love_", Arthur flared his nostrils at the phrase, "for a day." Francis smiled, amused.

"Well, no matter the length, we're in love. So, that's enough reason to be closer, right?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't.", Arthur said, his eyes downcast, staring at the table. "Why not?", Francis repeated, his brow arching slightly. Arthur raised his eyes back to Francis, "I still have the band, remember?" Francis knitted his eyebrows together. "But I thought it wasn't go so well?"

"It's not, but I can't just abandon them. We've been planning to have one more performance with the last of our funds – and if we can't earn enough money, we're calling it quits."

"Just like that?"

"Unless you, or someone, gives us thousands, there's no point. We can't supply enough money to record or much less perform, and we also need money to take care of the gear and to keep our manager."

Francis hummed and stared at his hands, "I'm sorry."

Arthur waved a hand dismissively, "Nah, I'm getting tired of it anyways. I want to do something else with my life than having to deal with people constantly."

Francis hummed again, "Like what? Any ideas?"

Then, the waitress approached them with their orders, placing them on the table before she returned to other customers. Arthur stared at his plate in thought.

"I've..considered being a veterinarian", he glared at Francis when he snorted, "..but I don't have enough to go to college or something to learn." Francis grew quiet, looking at Arthur's discouraged expression. He smiled, "We'll see."

Arthur snorted this time, "I can't earn enough money just from part-time jobs. It'll take years." Francis continued to smile lightly, "We'll see." Arthur grinned humorously before he lifted a fork and stabbed it into his fish.


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur found himself trying to be the best he could for Francis. He knew it was cheesy and, perhaps, stupid that he cared, but he did nonetheless. He attempted to quit drinking, and he put an effort into keeping his apartment clean. But he still swore plenty, whether Francis liked it or not.

"You're going to get lung cancer if you're not careful.", Francis commented one day when Arthur was lighting another cigarette. "And?", Arthur said as he shook out his lighter and placed the cigarette between his lips. He lifted his eyes to the trees and the dark, gray clouds.

Arthur had complained it was getting stuffy in the apartment, so Francis offered to go out on a walk. And apparently, it was a rain-threatening day. Arthur liked it, though. He liked the chilly feeling settling on your skin and the silence, seeing as everyone ran for cover from the large, black clouds, as if it was going to pourrain at any second.

The bright embers at the end of his cigarette stood out from the dim scenery. He sucked in the cancer before he plucked the cigarette from his lips and exhaled, sending billowing smoke from his mouth.

"And you don't care?", Francis continued, watching him. Arthur didn't respond as he returned the bud to his lips.

Francis sighed, "At least share it with me." Arthur snickered and then pulled it from his lips to pass it to him. Arthur watched him from the corner of his eyes as Francis inhaled and blew the smoke from his nose, like a dragon.

"You're attractive when you smoke.", Arthur said as he stared at him. Francis glanced at him and smirked, "_Merci._" Arthur took the cigarette from him.

Francis sat back on the bench, stretching his arm out to wrap it around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him closer. Arthur ignored him as he took a drag on the cigarette. Francis exhaled, content, as he gazed up at the ominous clouds with amazed eyes. He was always enchanted by the beauty of nature.

"Looks like it's going to rain."

"Mh."

Francis crossed his legs and jiggled his foot, "I don't want to get my clothes wet." Arthur sat back, and turned his head to stare at him. "So, go."

Francis averted his eyes from the clouds to him, "No." Arthur smiled, showing a little bit of teeth. Francis leaned forward to kiss it. Arthur returned it, snaking an arm around Francis' waist and pulled him closer, bumping their hips together.

Then, he pulled back to smile lightly at Francis before he looked up at the clouds. "What should we do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to go back to the apartment just yet.", Arthur said as he returned the cigarette to his lips. Francis nodded, "Well, we could walk a little bit more. And then just stop wherever we wish to." Arthur exhaled the smoke and then handed Francis the cigarette before he stood, pulling Francis with him. "Sure."

Then he turned from Francis to walk farther into the park. Francis dropped the cigarette onto the pavement before he groundit down with his foot and then caught up to Arthur, walking along side him.

Arthur watched the trees' leaves shake in the cool breeze. The clouds shielded the light, casting a dark glow over the plants and sidewalks and buildings. Arthur listened to their footsteps and the flutter of the trees as they walked side by side. He felt drowsy, but too awake to care.

Francis remained silent as they walked past the rows of trees, towards the sidewalk that separated the park from the buildings and roads. He stared at the nature that surrounded them, before he averted his eyes to Arthur, and slipped his hand into his partner's.

Arthur smiled lightly and threaded his fingers through Francis' as they walked onto the sidewalk hugging the road, leaving behind the park. Their footsteps grew in sync, their hands linked between them as they silently walked deeper into town, cars passing them more often than not.

Arthur ignored the very few stares they received – some of them judging and some of them in awe – but it ended up annoying him more than bothering him. He pulled his hand away from Francis', and shoved it into his pocket. Francis hadn't commented, only pressed his lips together.

"So, what should we do?", Arthur asked, breaking the silence that had grown awkward. Francis cleared his throat, and glanced at him, "Are you hungry?"

"Somewhat."

A small smile slipped over Francis' lips, "Alright, we can go to a restaurant, if you want." Arthur nodded and glanced down at his feet, "Sure."

Then, they grew quiet again. Arthur listened to the cars driving by and their footsteps, his eyes raising to the dark clouds once more.

He never really thought about what happened. He never sat down and thought about how they were now in a relationship and that they hadn't planned anything out yet. Arthur wasn't sure if Francis wanted this to last or not, but he assumed he did. But that meant they would have to tell their parents, right? Perhaps it didn't matter though. They didn't _have _to tell them.

What did Francis want to do? Did he just want to live with him in Paris? That didn't seem to pleasant to Arthur right now. They'd only been together for about a week and a half, and he already asked to move in together, and that made Arthur a little bit uncomfortable. Not that he would tell Francis, but it still bothered him. Arthur wanted to see how this turned out, and if it went alright, he would consider it.

* * *

><p>It had taken them twenty minutes to walk to the restaurant that Francis wanted to go to. Arthur's feet had begun to hurt. Now that they were seated at a table in the corner beside the windows, Arthur looked around the restaurant.<p>

It was extremely extravagant. The round tables had long, red table cloths over them, with a single candle in the center. There was a distant piano playing somewhere, and each person was dressed in some expensive looking apparel, even the waiters. Arthur just came in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He didn't care all too much, though.

Francis was dressed in a more suitable outfit: a wine red dress shirt with a black tie, and a pair of black slacks with matching dress shoes. Arthur noticed it attracted more attention to him. Even a few women stopped them on the sidewalk to say hello until Arthur told them to sod off. Arthur thought it was stupid to wear an outfit like that when they were going out just to walk around.

Arthur grew bored with his thoughts and swept them away as he scooted his chair in, placing his forearms on the table, the tablecloth wrinkling slightly. He glanced up at Francis, who was looking at a woman across the room, before he dropped his eyes to his hands. He fiddled with his rings before Francis cleared his throat, earning Arthur's gaze. Francis smiled.

"How are you?", he asked lightly, crossing his legs under the table and placing his hands in his lap. Arthur looked away, at the woman Francis was previously staring at, "Fine. You?"

"Content."

Arthur nodded, and resumed to messing with his rings.

Francis adjusted in his seat, "How come you are only 'fine'?" Arthur scratched at his wrists, and stared at the pinkish cut in his forearm. "Dunno." Francis hadn't said anything, so silence lingered until their waiter walked up to their table.

"Hello gentlemen, what would you like to have for drinks this evening?", he asked, glancing at them both. Arthur looked up at him and scowled. The waiter ignored him and looked at Francis. Francis nodded slightly, "Yes, well, we'll just have a bottle of wine, no matter the brand." The waiter nodded, "It'll be here shortly." Then, he turned and left them.

Arthur wanted a cigarette. He sniffed and could feel his cigarette pack in his jean's pocket, but ignored it as he stared at his hands again. He felt no need to start conversation, so he didn't speak. But apparently, Francis wanted to.

"Now that I think about it", Francis began, "I don't know too much about you." Arthur lifted his gaze to him, "And?"

Francis smiled, "And I would like to learn."

"Learn what?"

"Things. Things that you like, things that you dislike, and such. Just to know you better, perhaps.", Francis said. Arthur pressed his lips together, feeling a small headache come on. He nodded, "So, what would you like to know?"

"When was the last time you were in a committed relationship?"

"Four years ago."

Francis paused. "How come?" Arthur rubbed his eyes with his fingers, "I don't know. No one really cared, and neither did I. Next question, please." Francis nodded, "What were they like? The last person you were with." Arthur remained silent for a few seconds, lowering his hands into his lap to look at Francis.

"Well, he was annoying, and loud. Really dense, too. Um, he's a good person, always cared for other people's feelings. We were even engaged too. But, it didn't work out. So, he moved back to America, and I haven't talked to him since. He was a childhood friend.", Arthur said with an uncomfortable tone, averting his eyes to the tablecloth.

Francis frowned, "I'm sorry." Arthur shook his head, "No, it doesn't matter anymore." Francis nodded, just as the waiter walked up with the wine bottle and two wine glasses in hand. He placed them on the table and poured the glasses half-full with wine, then straightened out. "Are you ready to order your meal?"

Francis glanced at Arthur, and then Arthur nodded. Francis smiled at the waiter, "Yes."

Once they told him their choices, he walked off, leaving them behind once more. Arthur adjusted his sleeves, pulling it lower over his forearm, shielding some bruises. Francis watched him as Arthur ran his hands through his short hair, making the short locks even more disheveled. Arthur cleared his throat as he looked up at Francis, "So, anymore questions?"

"_Oui. _What's your favorite animal?", Francis asked with a smile. "Cat.", Arthur answered, situating himself in his chair to get comfortable.

"Favorite color?"

"Either green or brown."

"Biggest fears?"

Arthur paused, blinking a few times. As he thought about it, Francis watched. He reached forward to take hold of his wine glass, and take a small sip.

Arthur crossed his arms, and then winced from applying pressure to his cut, deciding to rest his hands in his lap instead. "I'd say drowning. And bugs.", he answered, nodding slowly. Francis smiled, "I had no idea." Arthur rolled his eyes, "Next question."

"Favorite foods?"

Arthur pursed his lips in thought. After a minute, he shrugged, "I don't know. I like tea and biscuits, though." Francis grinned, "Oddly, that suits you." Arthur laughed lightly, then he took a drink from his wine, flaring his nostrils at the blast of taste on his tongue.

"What irritates you most?"

Arthur raised his eyes to Francis and pursed his lips lightly in thought. He licked his lips, "Bad manners, texting, and..obnoxious people." Francis placed his wine glass down and scooted closer, re-crossing his legs and propping his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his folded fingers. "Bad manners? Obnoxious people? Are you referring to yourself?"

"Shut up.", Arthur said simply, taking another drink of his wine. Francis grinned, "Really, now. You dislike bad manners, although you aren't so _mannered _yourself." Arthur shrugged lightly as he set his wine glass down, "I'm not as bad as I used to be." Francis smiled, "I noticed." Arthur's lips twitched into a smile, "I know."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, after they had dined and talked, they left the restaurant, only to find the roads and buildings drumming with rain. The dark intimidating clouds loitered above and released a downpour of raindrops, the canopy protecting them.<p>

Arthur scowled out at the shower and took his phone out to call a taxi, barking the restaurant's address at the woman who picked up. Francis only watched with amusement.

The constant drumming of the rain and the splattering footsteps of pedestrians urged them to remain silent, Arthur glaring at the wet roads and the menacing clouds. He shivered and his teeth clattered, and his bare forearms were littered with goosebumps. He ran a hand over his non-injured arm, trying to soothe the goosebumps to sleep. He sighed and dropped his arms.

Francis was content. He felt comfortable standing there with Arthur, staring out at the rain. He noticed how Arthur was growing uncomfortable, so he slipped his trench coat off and draped it over Arthur's slim shoulders, earning a mumbled thank you. He watched as Arthur snaked his arms into the sleeves, pulling the coat closer around his frame.

The Frenchman was not used to this weather at all. He was, obviously, a Frenchman. It was warmer in France, and it did rain occasionally. But it wouldn't pour like this. In England, the mornings were chilly and the days were moist and uncomfortable. Like a swamp. A dirty swamp filled with grumpy English men and women. But in France, it was bright and dry – a comfortable dry – and the women and men were beautiful (well, most were) as well as the country itself.

Francis thought about his home country, attempting to distract himself from the chill seeping up through his arms. He glanced at Arthur, who wasn't shaking anymore, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"How come you insist on living here? It's so..dreary and cold.", Francis began conversation, a smirk threatening to break across his lips, like usual. Arthur made a sound that was a mixture of a scoff and a growl before he averted his glare from the rain to Francis, "Oh, shut it. France is so bizarre and the people are annoying and persistent."

"It's ironic how you used a French word to insult my country."

"Idiot."

"_Rosbif._"

"Frog."

"Grumpy Englishman."

"Narcissistic bastard."

"I am not narcissistic!", Francis complained childishly, throwing a shocked expression at Arthur. "Yes you are!", Arthur shot back. Francis frowned, "You are delusional, my dear Arthur." Arthur laughed but didn't reply, noticing the taxi cab turn around the corner, approaching them and the restaurant, it's windshield wipers swiping back and forth, batting away the rain.

Arthur uncrossed his arms and nudged Francis, "There's the taxi." Francis rolled his eyes, "I am not blind." Arthur shot him a glare just as the taxi slowed to a stop in front of them. Arthur walked to the backseat and pulled the door open before he climbed in, getting a few drops of rain on his hair and Francis' coat. Francis followed, an amused smile on his lips. Once he shut the door, he glanced at Arthur who was buckling his seat belt. He mentally noted to mention that later.

He did his as well, as Arthur told the driver the apartment's address, a small click sounding as he did so. He sat back against the seat and flipped his hair back with his hand, and then smiled at Arthur, who was looking out the window. He looked at the back of Arthur's head before he looked out his own window, his hands resting in his lap. Arthur had remained silent the entire drive back.

* * *

><p>The door quietly clicked shut behind Francis as Arthur undid his trench coat and slipped it off his shoulders, draping it over the bed. Francis turned to face Arthur, and watched him as he flattened out his wet hair (they became wet from running up the parking lot to the stairs, and Arthur had slipped), his bottle green eyes fixed on the bed.<p>

Francis smiled as he shook out his own hair lightly, before he crouched down to untie his dress shoes and slip them off, resting them beside the door. As Arthur kicked off his boots, Francis walked to the bed and sat down.

Arthur began to undress; pulling his shirt over his head and then tossing it onto the armchair, before he began to unbutton his jeans. Francis watched as he changed into a sweater and his recently worn sweatpants, his eyes fixed on Arthur's blank expression.

Arthur piled his wet clothing on the armchair, planning to wash them later. He rubbed his eyes before he turned to walk to the bed and sit beside Francis, raising his legs to cross them. Francis thought he looked strangely attractive with his legs crossed.

"Aren't you cold?", Arthur asked, finally looking at him. Francis smiled genuinely, feeling warmed, mentally, by his worry (or perhaps, his persistence). "A little." Arthur pressed his lips together and then stood, to bring the comforter up, around Francis' shoulders, pulling it tight around his torso. Francis blinked and then reached up to grab onto the blanket and hold it around himself.

Arthur sat back down on the bed, close to Francis, and rested his head against Francis' shoulder. He snaked an arm around Francis and the comforter. Francis smiled lightly and glanced at the top of his head on his shoulder, and then pressed a kiss to it, earning a look from Arthur. They looked at each other. Arthur was staring into his eyes before he averted his stare to his lips. Francis watched as his tongue slipped out to run over his bottom lip.

He watched as Arthur's eyes met his again. Arthur leaned in to press their lips together, Francis feeling the wetness of his tongue on his bottom lip. Francis turned his torso to face him at a better angle, feeling a hand rest over his cheek and tangle it's fingers into his damp hair.

Arthur closed his eyes and kissed at his mouth, feeling Francis rest a hand on his thigh and return the pressure on his lips. He pulled back to press a kiss to his cheek and then back to his lips, moving his other hand up to wrap his arms around Francis' neck hidden by the blanket.

Their lips moved together strongly, the sounds of their kissing and the gentle feeling turning Arthur on. He broke his lips to slip his tongue out and into Francis' expectant mouth. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, feeling the soft texture of Francis' tongue.

He ran his tongue over and around Francis', their lips pressed together. Arthur could feel him suck on his tongue lightly, Arthur feeling a wave of arousal spark in his stomach and groin. He hummed a small groan against Francis' lips. Arthur pulled back to breathe, opening his eyes to look into Francis' blue irises. He could feel his face burn with hot blood in his cheeks.

Francis could easily notice Arthur's erection through his sweatpants. He raised his eyes to Arthur's. "Come here.", he said as he scooted back against the headboard, opening his legs for space. Arthur's ears heated up as he crawled to Francis and sat in front of him, feeling how uncomfortable his untouched arousal was. Francis shook his head, "No, turn around and rest your back against me." Arthur did that, turning around and resting his back on his chest between his opened legs. He spread his own legs wider to relieve the nagging uncomfortable feeling. He remained silent as Francis pulled the comforter around their bodies, shielding view, only their heads and shoulders visible.

He gasped once Francis palmed his arousal through his sweatpants. He rested his head back against Francis' shoulder and spread his legs wider, as Francis massaged it through the fabric, using his palm, mostly. He let out a surprised gasp/moan once Francis slipped his hand past the waistbands of his sweatpants and underwear, and grabbed onto his erection.

To his slight surprise, it turned him on even more now that he couldn't see Francis touch him. He lightly gripped the sheets underneath the comforter as Francis began to slowly stroke his cock, applying more pressure around the head as he ran his hand higher, earning a loud moan slipping from Arthur's throat.

Francis smiled lightly to himself, pleased with how open Arthur was acting. He usually held back any loud noises, but now he was panting and growing noisy in his arms.

He watched Arthur's expression, seeing his mouth slacken and his eyes close, having them open too much of a chore. He used his fingers to make him release more noises; running his thumb over the head in a circular motion, and arch his fingers in a particular angle to make Arthur let out a high-pitched noise. He ran his other hand down to slide it up Arthur's sweater, placing it on his flat stomach. He massaged his stomach as he quickened his hand to a strong, but yet gentle pace.

"Francis..", Arthur breathed, Francis watching his mouth whisper his name. Francis kissed his temple.

He wrapped his hand around the shaft, deciding it was enough teasing. He began to pump his hand on the skin, feeling his pre-cum slip down the head, his fingers spreading it out over the shaft, making his strokes slicker. Arthur was now panting, his head turned to face Francis' neck, his breaths brushing against the skin.

Francis could feel his own arousal strain against his slacks, but he ignored it, focused on giving Arthur attention. He continued to gently rub Arthur's stomach as he pumped his hand on his cock, shivering a few times from Arthur's breath on his neck.

He could feel Arthur grow tense in his arms, a pleasured gasp emitting from his lips as he came onto Francis' hand and his underwear. Arthur then grew limp against his chest, a wave of light comatose going through him from the after-effect of releasing. He breathed heavily, the sleeves of his sweater sticking to his arms from the sweat.

Arthur could feel Francis' arousal pressing against his lower back, Arthur exhaling through his nose before he straightened up and turned to face Francis. He pressed a strong kiss to the Frenchman's lips before he slipped underneath the comforter.

He massaged Francis' arousal through his slacks as Francis had done to him, Arthur feeling him twitch and then slide his hips down lower to give him more room. Arthur ran his tongue over his bottom lip, debating whether or not to just give him a handjob as well. But, he wanted to do more.

He pressed his lips together in thought, before he reached up to unbutton and unzip Francis' pants. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of Francis' briefs, and then slowly slipped it down with his pants, down to the middle of his thigh, so now his cock was pressing up against the blanket. Arthur paused, listening to Francis' shuddered breaths.

Arthur licked his lips again, and then slid his hand up to touch the hot skin of Francis' thigh, feeling a small jolt shoot through Francis from the contact of his strangely cold fingers. Arthur kneaded his thigh in his hand, still debating whether or not to give him a blowjob. He's never done it for him before, and he wasn't sure if Francis even wanted him to or not. It was best he made sure.

He reached up to push the blanket back, Arthur inhaling the fresh air as he looked up at Francis. Francis' face was flushed lightly. He looked down into Arthur's eyes, Arthur seeing the clouded lust in his eyes. It looked slightly impatient, too.

Francis furrowed his eyebrows and reached up to stroke the top of Arthur's head, "Is something wrong?"

"No.", Arthur began. "..but I just wanted to know if it was okay for me to suck you off.", he said bluntly, blushing lightly when it came out of his mouth. Francis paused and then swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, "Only if you want to, _cher_." Arthur's cheeks deepened a shade in slight embarrassment and anxiety. He nodded before he averted his attention to Francis' untouched arousal, which was standing stiffly before Arthur.

Arthur flickered his eyes to Francis again, seeing how his eyebrows were still furrowed, probably from the discomfort of it. Arthur knew he was taking forever, but he was nervous nonetheless. Which he never was. But now, it made him feel self-conscious, doing things to pleasure Francis. He swept the distracting thoughts away and then pulled the blanket back over his head and Francis' waist, too embarrassed to let Francis watch.

Without further hesitation, he gently wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, which felt burning hot in his hand. Arthur could feel his pulse. Arthur's face flushed, his ears burning. He noticed how Francis was squirming, his hips shifting.

Arthur then began to slowly move his fingers up and down, adding slight pressure towards the head. He could hear Francis exhale breathlessly. Arthur moved his fingers back down to the base, before sliding back up over the shaft. He felt Francis shudder in anticipation.

Arthur could feel his own heartbeat flutter in his chest, his face burning from touching Francis. It was so strange, it's as if it was new to him.

He continued stroking him gently until pre-cum pooled at the head, Arthur hearing Francis sucking in breaths and panting lightly. Although, he never complained by how slow he was being. Perhaps, he didn't mind it.

Once the pre-cum slipped over the head and down the shaft, Arthur pulled his hand away. He cupped his hands and opened his mouth, sliding his tongue out. He let his saliva pool in his hands, and then reached up to spread it over the shaft of Francis' cock. He rubbed it around the base and the head, before he curled his thumb and forefinger around the base, holding it in place. He licked his lips and then leaned in to swirl his tongue around the wet, pink head.

Francis trembled, and placed a hand on the comforter. Arthur wanted to see his expressions, but he didn't want Francis to see him. So, he continued moving his tongue over the tip, tasting his pre-cum.

Arthur sucked on the tip before he took the head in his mouth, and ran his tongue over the underside. He kept his fingers wrapped around the base as he sucked on the head harshly, slurping sounds coming from his lips, which made him blush.

A small groan came from Francis, urging Arthur to take his arousal deeper in his mouth. Arthur closed his eyes and hallowed his cheeks, sucking lightly as he ran his tongue over the vein, feeling his pulse on his tongue. He lovingly massaged Francis' thigh in his other hand, as he began to lightly bob his head.

Arthur relaxed his throat to force more into his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration to not gag. As he thought, he couldn't get all of it in his mouth. He could take more than half, though, which should be enough.

He began to slowly raise and lower his head, his saliva making it easier to take him back in his mouth. He ran his hand down to cup his balls in his hand, running his thumb over it as he continued to bob his head, the blanket moving with him.

A gasped moan came from Francis above him, Arthur feeling more pre-cum on his tongue. Francis' breathless pants turned Arthur on, and he could feel his hips squirm, trying to resist the urge to thrust up into his mouth. Arthur took as much of his cock into his mouth as he could, and then hummed harshly, the vibrations making Francis moan and tremble.

"Nng, Arthur..I'm going to come.", Francis said breathlessly, Arthur feeling him place a hand above his head on the comforter. Arthur lifted his lips, but kept them around the head. He sucked lightly as he began to stroke him with his fingers, until Francis came with a groan, Arthur feeling the hot substance land on his tongue, and the outside of his lips.

Arthur pulled back and crinkled his nose from the taste, but swallowed it down. Francis pushed the comforter away, and looked at Arthur, his face flushed. He was panting lightly, and Arthur stared as he wiped the excess cum away from his cheek.

He grew rigid once Francis leaned in to kiss him, but before he could, Arthur stopped him by the shoulders. Francis opened his eyes, not expecting him to refuse.

Arthur held up a finger, "Hold on." Francis remained silent as Arthur stood from the bed and walked into the bathroom, flipping the light on.

After he quickly brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth out, he washed his hands and then returned to Francis after turning off the light. He sat down on the bed, his legs over the side.

Francis smiled lightly, and then reached up to brush Arthur's bangs out of his eyes. Arthur placed his hand in Francis' lap, and leaned in to press his lips to the Frenchman's, closing his eyes. He felt Francis move his hand to the back of his head as he kissed back, Arthur feeling his heart flutter.

He moved his lips with Francis', until he ran out of breath. He pulled away to inhale sharply, and then he opened his eyes to look at Francis. Francis reached down to grab onto Arthur's hand, and held it in his own. Arthur let him hold it.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Arthur staring at their hands. He brushed his thumb over Francis' hand repeatedly, trying to think of something to say. He lifted his eyes to Francis, noticing how he was looking at their hands as well. He cleared his throat, earning Francis' attention.

"I've been wondering..for a while", Arthur began, looking in Francis' eyes, "What do you do? For a job?" Francis blinked and then smiled lightly. He slid closer to Arthur and wrapped an arm around his waist. "I cook.", he said. Arthur arched a brow, "As in a chef? For what?" Francis nodded, "A restaurant back in Paris." Arthur pursed his lips, realizing he hasn't been to Paris in a while.

Arthur exhaled and then glanced at the alarm clock, "When do you have to go back?" Francis pressed his lips together and then patted Arthur's hand, "Soon."

* * *

><p>Soon, as in two days, apparently.<p>

Although, Arthur didn't mind. He had to get to practicing on his guitar anyways. His arm was almost completely healed by then. Now, it was just a pink scar that needed to scab (the doctors removed his stitches awhile ago). Before, he wasn't able to play, due to his arm, but now he needed to get to it. The performance was in a week. But, they were mostly playing their old songs, so it wouldn't be too much of a hassle.

* * *

><p>"Onions? Where are the onions?", Francis called over his shoulder in French, his attention occupied by the potatoes and garlic sizzling on the pan, his arm working to push it around with the spatula in his hand. He licked his lips as he placed the spatula down to reach up to the cabinets, and then opened it to grab the rosemary leaves, the black pepper, and the parsley bottles. He sprinkled plenty of each onto the potatoes in the pan.<p>

Then, his co-worker placed a bag of onions on the counter beside the stove, Francis instantly reaching over to grab two and place them on the cutting board. Averting his attention from the stove to the utensil drawer, he snatched a knife and began to mince the peeled onions swiftly, keeping his fingers curled back.

After mincing, he scooped them up with the knife and cupped it in his palm, and then dumped it in the pan with the potatoes, a new melody of sizzling sounding. He then returned to pushing the onions and potatoes around the frying pan.

Two hours later, his shift ended.

His footsteps tapped against the tile as he walked through the large kitchen, his arms reached back to untie his newly stained apron. The waiters and fellow cooks bustled through and out of the kitchen as Francis approached the back door. He pulled the apron over his head and hung it up on the hangers, before he grabbed his trench coat and slipped it on. After shaking out his hair, he turned to say _au revoir _to nobody in particular, before shoving out of the backdoor, into the crisp air.

He dug his keys out of his coat's pocket and walked towards his car, his eyes downcast to his feet as he approached the driver's side.

After unlocking it and sliding into the seat, he slammed the door shut behind him and started the car. He sighed heavily as he backed out of the parking space.

* * *

><p>Arthur had no reason to be bored anymore. Lately, he's been discovering more activities, hobbies, that would pass time. And he also forced himself to play his guitar, even if he wasn't interested anymore.<p>

After spending an hour or two on his guitar, he would swiftly pack it away in it's case before throwing his boots and ripped jacket on. Lately, he's been visiting the library, to read all about plants and animals. He had also thought 'fuck it', and got a library card. Then, he checked out multiple books on types of flowers, how to tend to them, and also different species of animals. Including, books on biology.

One day, he walked down an aisle that was filled with books on embroidery, knitting, and sewing. And, frankly, it caught his eye. He felt embarrassed to pull out a few books on embroidery, but nonetheless he scanned through them, and thought of a few things that he could make. After deciding he had no interest in sewing and knitting (although, he thought he could give knitting a try sometime), he chose a couple specific books on embroidery – one teaching how to, and the other listing materials and some simple designs he could begin with – before clutching it in his arms. Michelle smiled once she checked them out for him. Now, they were in the "Need to read" pile of books.

Now, he was sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard, his legs crossed. He was thumbing through a book on different types of flowers and it's habitats, his eyes wide with interest. He stared at a picture of a lily, studying the little dots and the dip of the petals. He admired it a minute longer, before turning to a page for poppies. He smiled and read about it's origin, and where it grows and what seasons. After re-reading the name of the flower, an image of that one unique nanny appeared in his head. Poppies reminded him of Poppins.

Then, suddenly, he felt a craving. He crinkled his nose, and placed the book face down on the bed, to not lose his place. He reached to the nightstand and pushed the alarm clock aside as well as the books, looking for his pack of cigarettes. After finding it, he snatched it and looked in. It was empty. He sighed and placed it back down, discouraged.

With a grunt, he pushed off the bed and walked to the closet to grab his boots, and his jacket. Once he pulled them on, he paused, noticing the rip in the sleeve of his red jacket, from before. He ran his fingers over it, biting softly on the inside of his cheek. He needed to buy new clothes. Might as well.

After making it out the door, he exhaled, seeing his breath come out. He closed the door behind him and locked it, before he walked down the balcony, and down the stairs. He noticed the pavement a darker shade than usual. And, a moist sensation and smell lingered in the air. It must have rained last night.

Now, it was bitter cold. He flared his nostrils, feeling the cold attack his cheeks and arms. He rubbed his thighs through his skinny jeans as he walked past the parking lot, onto the sidewalk, in the direction of downtown where all the stores were.

* * *

><p>Within an hour, he made it to the grocery store, that also sold clothing and home essentials. As well as cigarettes. He sighed thankfully, his ears and nose bitten with cold. His fingers were a bright red.<p>

A gust of warm air greeted him as he walked into the large building, into the entrance where all the shopping carts were. He paused in front of the rows of shopping carts, debating whether or not to use one.

It's been so long since he's done this. Ever since his mother died. The last time he went shopping like this, was the last time his mother shopped for groceries. He bit his lip as he hesitantly walked to a row and reached out to grab onto one, and pulled it out.

The wheels rolled noisily against the linoleum as he pushed it past the automatic doors, into the crowded building. He gazed around the interior, over the shelves of food. Averting his eyes to his front, he noticed the electronics section he passed, his eyes drifting to the TVs and the minute cellphones.

Knowing he had no need – or the money – for those sorts of things, he pushed past, approaching the counter that held packs of cigarettes and chewing tobacco behind on shelves. He slowed in front of the counter, the woman looking up at him. She was middle-aged looking. He swallowed. But before he could speak, she did.

"Can I help you?"

Arthur nodded lightly, "Yeah, could I have a pack of cigarettes?" She eyed him, "ID?" Arthur paused, and patted at his jeans and jacket pockets, realizing he left it in his drawer at home.

"Forget it.", he sneered before he pushed the cart away. He heard her hiss, "Bloody teenagers." He rolled his eyes at her stupidity. He didn't look that young, did he?

Once he found his way to the clothing section, he strolled past the women's and girl's section, to the men's. He slowed as he walked past the racks of jeans and t-shirts, having enough of those.

He stopped. He stared at the racks that held slacks, sweaters, and dress shirts. He also saw a small section that had waist coats. He licked his lips and pushed the cart closer. He stopped it again and walked to the dress shirts. He reached out to rub the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger. It was black. He imagined wearing it, and what it would look like. He thought it wouldn't suit him, but it didn't really matter.

He snatched the black one, a white one, and an olive green. Once he draped them in the cart, he paced to the slacks. They were mostly black, but some were tan – which made Arthur furrow his eyebrows in disgust – and white. He only grabbed a black pair.

After adding the pair to the cart, he approached the waistcoats curiously. He never worn one before, maybe when he was child, but he didn't recall what he looked like in one. As the slacks, most were black, but there was some patterned ones, as well as tan and white.

He only grabbed a black one. He ran his fingertips over the shiny buttons, and then rubbed the almost-silk-like fabric between his fingers.

Then, he jumped, hearing a loud buzzing noise and a vibration against his thigh. It was his phone. He quickly placed the waistcoat among the other clothing before digging his hand into his pocket and retrieving his phone. Seeing that Francis was the only one that knew his phone number, he expected the Frenchman to be calling.

Not bothering to check the number, he flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. "What?"

"What a rude greeting.", Francis commented and then continued before Arthur could speak. "Hello Arthur.", he said lightly, his voice cheerful. Arthur ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "Hey."

"Are you busy?", he heard Francis ask.

"Kind of."

"How so?"

Arthur glanced at his cart of clothing, "I'm shopping." Francis paused, "Oh, really? What for?" Arthur crossed his arm underneath his elbow that was supporting his phone, "Clothes." He heard Francis huff, "Clothes? Why didn't you tell me you needed some? I would've gone with you, and given you criticism!"

"I'm not interested in wearing monkey suits.", Arthur said blankly.

"Oh, no. Although I think you would look good in a suit, I was thinking maybe finding something that would make you look..good. Matches you, perhaps."

Arthur hummed and shifted his weight to his other foot, "Why are you calling me?"

"Is it so bad that I just want to hear my lover's voice?"

Arthur raised a hand to nibble at a fingernail, "No."

"..Do you miss me?"

Arthur paused, and then lowered his hand. "Not really." He heard Francis snort, as if he was expecting that response.

"I'm bored without you.", Francis murmured. Arthur hummed and then walked to the sweaters. He began thumbing through them, pausing on a v-neck.

"Are you?"

"No, surprisingly.", Arthur answered lightly as he picked a few sweaters out.

"Not at all?"

"I actually have things to do."

"Oh."

A few moments of silence passed through them as Arthur looked at all the price tags, making a face occasionally. He added it all up mentally, and then exhaled. "When are you coming back?"

He heard Francis talking to someone through the phone. He waited, and then heard his voice again. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Yeah. When are you coming back?"

Francis exhaled, "Three days, I think. Not sure. My employer is angered by my absence, but he doesn't dare fire me, seeing as I'm the best the restaurant's had. I can slip away for another week or two." Arthur nodded to himself and began pushing the cart in the direction of the check-outs.

"When's your performance?", he heard Francis ask. Arthur cleared his throat as he stopped in front of a self check-out. "This Friday." Francis remained silent as Arthur began scanning the sweaters, and piling them messily in a bag.

Arthur paused, his hand resting on the side of the cart. "Will you be able to make it?"

"It's in two days, _oui_? I'll try."

Arthur rubbed his lips together and then sighed, "Alright." Then, he finished scanning the dress shirts. After quickly paying, he gathered the two stuffed bags in his free hand and walked out of the check-outs, leaving the cart behind.

"Ah..I have to go.", Francis said a minute later, his voice coated in disappointment. Arthur walked past the cigarette lady, a frown on his lips. "Okay. I'll call you later."

"I love you.", Francis said lightly, making Arthur's feet pause and then began again. "You know how I feel about you, too.", Arthur mumbled quietly, too embarrassed to say it. Francis hummed, "I'll accept that. Bye, Arthur."

"See you.", Arthur replied before he closed his phone and returned it to his pocket. He walked out of the building, greeted by the rush of cold air once more.

* * *

><p>At ten in the morning the next day, Arthur was sitting on his bed, his legs crossed. He held a book in his lap, on cats, his eyes lowered to the text and the pictures. Sunlight poured in through the window, lighting the room to a comfortable dim. Arthur rarely used the light anymore; he thought sunlight was much more relaxing.<p>

He was on the page describing Scottish folds, when he heard footsteps outside on the balcony. Then, he heard a few soft knocks on his door. He sighed, and shut the book before sliding it off his lap, onto the covers beside him.

"Give me a second.", he called as he stood, stretching his back and arms out, before he adjusted his sweatpants. After walking to his closet and grabbing a shirt, he threw it on over his bare torso.

He approached the door and reached out to unlock it, and pull it open, a gust of chilly morning air brushing against his face. He rubbed his eyes. A small smile spread over his lips once he saw Francis.

"Hey.", he greeted lightly, seeing Francis smile back at him. Francis then reached over to pull him into a hug, burying his face in his neck. Arthur paused, and then smiled genuinely, resting his chin on Francis' shoulder. He stroked his hair.

"I missed you. I wanted to come back as soon as possible."

"Hm. Don't get fired because of me."

Francis laughed and then exhaled, his breath brushing against Arthur's neck. Arthur shivered lightly and then pulled back from him. "Are you planning to come in?", Arthur asked as he turned away to walk back to the closet. He lifted his shirt back over his head, throwing it inside.

"Of course.", Francis said, and then walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him. He pulled his coat off, and walked to the armchair to drape it over the armrest. He glanced over at Arthur, who had returned to his sitting position on the bed, the book claiming it's spot back in his lap.

"What are you reading?", Francis asked as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his cuffs. "Uh, a book on cats.", Arthur answered, keeping his eyes on the page.

"Shouldn't you be practicing?", Francis mused as he walked to him, sitting beside him, his legs over the side. Arthur looked up at him, "You'd distract me." Francis nodded as he untied and pulled off his shoes, "Yes, I would." Then, he straightened up to reach over to slide his hand over Arthur's shoulder, and around his neck, his fingers running into the hair on the nape of his neck.

Arthur closed the book and tossed it aside, to give his full attention to Francis. Francis smiled lightly and leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Arthur moved his hands over Francis' chest, and then up around his neck. He closed his eyes and kissed him back.

They kissed for a few minutes, until both of them were turned on. Arthur had disposed of Francis' shirt by then, and now was working on his belt, and sliding his pants down. Francis had to stand up for a second to let it fall to his feet, as well as his underwear, before he returned to the bed, scooting close to instantly return his lips to Arthur's with vigor.

As Francis had stood, Arthur had quickly stripped off his sweatpants and briefs, throwing them over the side. And now that Francis had returned to him, he wrapped his arms around his neck again, and kissed back passionately.

After they had switched sides, Arthur now on top, Francis on the bottom, Arthur began to kiss at his neck and jawline, feeling his stubble tickle at his lips.

He pressed his lips delicately to his jugular, and then his Adam's apple, before moving to his shoulders, and his collar bone. Francis was rubbing soothing circles into Arthur's back, until Arthur moved to his chest, his hand now on his head, his fingers running through his short locks.

Arthur began to lick at one of his nipples, feeling his chest hairs against his cheek and chin, until it was hard. He moved to the untouched one, reaching a hand up to play with the other. Francis ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

But, it didn't last too long. Arthur raised his head back to Francis', pressing their lips together again. Francis instantly rested a hand on the back of his head. Arthur's hands were around his neck again. Francis nipped at Arthur's bottom lip, and sucked lightly.

Arthur pulled away to press a strong peck to Francis' red, kissed lips, and then moved down to his thighs. He massaged them in his hands, earning a small grunt from Francis. Arthur glanced up at his face, seeing him biting on his lip. Did he like being touched here? Francis spreading his legs wider answered his question.

Arthur experimentally lowered his head to lick at the inside of his thigh, earning a groan from above. He pressed strong kisses, and then bit gently on the soft skin. He pulled away to look at Francis again, seeing his eyes closed.

He moved his hands around his thighs, massaging the insides. "Is it sensitive here?", he asked quietly. Francis opened his eyes and exhaled a breath he's been holding. "_Oui_."

Arthur smiled, glad he was learning knew things about his body. He kissed Francis on the stomach before he moved down to give his boyfriend another blowjob.


	12. Chapter 12

This was stupid. All of it was _stupid_. Arthur hated going through all of these arrangements and deadlines with their manager. And since the performance – which Arthur was secretly dreading – was tomorrow, they had to group together and discuss it all, as if it was the most vital thing. Maybe, it was, to them. But to Arthur, it was a waste of time.

He hated how unfair he was being, too. He had joined this band for no other reason than to get away from his responsibilities. From, his father. It had worked too. For a good year or two. But, now that he has a reason to want to be happy, he just thought it wasted his time, and Francis'.

So far, a fair amount of tickets had been been purchased. Even though this was no big performance at all, it seemed to attract quite a few people. In fact, so far, the results have been way above their expectations.

And, that, is why Arthur was dreading tomorrow. He knew he was completely different than he was a few months ago. It would ruin his appearance, and he didn't really care.

An hour had passed of the manager going over everything again, until he began packing all his papers away. He had stood and said to them that they would meet again tomorrow. Only, it was for the performance.

Arthur heaved a sigh once he left the room, burying his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He felt exhausted and irritated, and he just wanted to leave and never come back. His band mates stood to stray to do their own things, whether it be practicing or going over the songs or perhaps the papers their manager left behind.

He just glared at them, and stood. Without a word to them, he walked out of the room, not caring all too much. He strode down the hallway, towards the exit of the building.

Once out in the cold air, he inhaled it deeply, before he walked to a nearby wall to lean against it. The cold crawled up his arms and latched onto his face. He ignored the unpleasant feeling, and dug his cigarette pack out of his pocket, as well as a lighter.

After lighting a cigarette and placing it between his lips, he took a long drag, his fingers holding it in place.

It's best to just get through all this crap, whether he liked it or not. Soon, it would be all behind him.

* * *

><p>"You seem tense, love."<p>

Arthur sighed, and lifted the fifth cigarette he's had to his lips, inhaling again. He adjusted his back against the side of the bed, his butt going numb from sitting on the floor. Francis was running his long, slender fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. But, it wasn't working.

Arthur reached out – past Francis' leg – to tap the cigarette against the ash tray by his foot in aggravation, the ash joining the other small piles. He hissed quietly once Francis' fingertip caught on a small knot. Francis worked it out of it's binds with gentleness.

"This is all so stupid. Why do I have to do this?", Arthur growled to himself, ignoring Francis' comment. He felt the hand in his hair move down to the back of his head, the gentle fingers brushing against the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Because it's your job to.", Francis answered lightly, running his fingers up the back of his head repeatedly, the locks of hair poking up. Arthur jerked away from his touch.

"I fucking know that! Shut up!", Arthur snapped, smashing his cigarette into the ash tray. Francis rested his hand in his lap, and remained silent, watching Arthur with his lips pressed together, almost in annoyance.

"How rude, Arthur.", Francis murmured as he reached out to pull Arthur back against the bed, between his legs. Arthur sighed, and leaned against the side of the bed again, letting Francis return to stroking through his hair.

Silence lingered from both of them, Arthur too enveloped in his own worry to care. He hadn't even noticed when Francis' hand paused, and then wandered lower, down his neck and to his shoulders.

Arthur felt his hands on his shoulders, and breath brush against his ear. He craned his head back to look up at Francis, who was now leaning down, closer. Arthur bit on the inside of his cheek, and then lowered his head down to look at his feet again.

He felt Francis' hands knead his shoulders, and then move down, over his collarbone. He felt his lips kiss at his ear, nibbling at the soft skin lightly. Arthur felt his hands move over his bare chest, his fingers running over his nipples. Arthur shivered.

The hands halted, and backed up to give his nipples more attention.

"Perhaps..", Arthur heard Francis murmur into his ear, "..I could make you relax, hm?"

Arthur let out the breath he's been holding, and watched as Francis pressed a fingertip against one of his nipples. He began moving his fingertip in a clockwise motion, until the nipple grew hard. Arthur's breath shuddered.

"Yeah.", Arthur breathed, placing a hand over one of Francis' feet.

* * *

><p>Within only two minutes to spare, Francis had made it to his seat, positioned in the center of the crowd. He glanced around, noticing, with dis-satisfaction, that most people were either teenagers, or too young for his liking to converse with. He shrugged, deciding it didn't matter.<p>

The building the performance was taking place in was different from Francis' expectations. He thought there would be a mosh pit or something, but it was just rows of long benches, for seats. And, it was very crowded. From Arthur's lack of enthusiasm, he assumed there weren't going to be as much people. But, it looked like almost every seat was taken.

It was spacious, and the stage itself was wide, but not too big.

With a sigh, Francis adjusted in his seat, and waited for the performance to begin. And shortly, it did, the wide curtain opening to reveal three out of the four band members, positioned on the stage, waiting for Arthur.

And another minute had passed, before Arthur had strode onto the stage, guitar in hand, with the most irritated expression Francis has ever seen him wear.

* * *

><p>Arthur's voice on-stage sounded completely different from what Francis had heard. It surprised him, and made him smile. And he also listened to each note he played and each pitch he lowered or raised. Once all the songs were sung and performed, Francis had to admit that they were the only hard rockpunk songs he liked.

After the last song and Arthur thanking everyone for coming, the many people had filed out of the rows of seats, towards the exit. Everyone had chatted a bit and complimented the performance (and a lot of it was directed towards Arthur's singing), before they finally left the building. Francis had loitered in his seat, his legs crossed, his hands in his lap. He had watched Arthur and the other band members pack up their instruments, none of them really talking. And at one point, Arthur had glanced up and saw him still sitting there, his eyebrows raising. Francis had smiled at him, and raised a hand to wave his fingers at him. Arthur then grabbed his guitar and shoved it in his guitar case before striding off the stage.

They decided – through text – to meet up at the restaurant. Arthur could get a ride from his band mate, after they packed up the equipment, of course. And talked with their manager. And pushed past all the lingering newly-made fans. It wasn't too hectic, though. Except, it was to Arthur.

Francis had made it to their restaurant twenty minutes before Arthur had shown up, his menu still untouched.

"Hey.", Arthur greeted as he slid into the opposite booth of him. Francis had instantly noticed the exhausted look in his eyes, and how his lips curled down into a sour scowl. Francis arched a brow and reached over to brush his bangs back, out of his eyes.

"You look tired.", Francis observed with slight amusement. Arthur shrugged, and gently pushed his hand away, and then ruffled his hair again. "Yeah. So, what'd you think?", he asked with a exasperated sigh.

Francis hummed, and took a drink from his water, evaluating his response. He swished the water around in his mouth absentmindedly, and pursed his lips before swallowing.

"It was more crowded than I expected."

Arthur snorted, a smile spreading over his lips, "Yeah, same." His smile died down too quickly. He lifted his eyes to Francis, and reached up to nibble on his thumb nail, "What about the actual performance?" Francis smiled softly. "It was nice. I'm glad I got to see you perform. Pretty voice you got there."

Arthur rolled his eyes and grinned, "I'm relieved at least _you _enjoyed it. I thought I was just dragging you along with my misery." Francis shook his head. "So..", he began, and then cleared his throat. "Regarding the whole money situation?"

With a heavy sigh, Arthur lolled his head and then raised his eyes to Francis, and forced a small smile. "Well..a lot more people came than we expected..", he began. His smile lowered, "And it's was a successful performance."

Francis watched him, looking into his eyes. "Which means?" Arthur glanced away from him for a second, and then returned his eyes to him. "Which means we could continue working together as a band.", he answered. Before Francis could ask, he lifted a hand. "But, I discussed it with them – thus my late arrival - about my leave."

After clearing his throat, Francis shifted in his seat. "And? Stop dragging this out and just tell me." Arthur smiled sincerely, "I just have to sign a few papers or some shit, and then I'm all yours." Francis chuckled, and then paused. He stared into Arthur's eyes, "Are you sure you want to make this decision? I could wait a few more years. As long as you're doing what you want, that's all that matters."

"I want to..be with you.", Arthur said sternly, his eyebrows creasing. He placed his hands on the table, "I..thought about it. Moving in with you. And..I know we argue occasionally, but it doesn't seem all that bad to me." He admitted, blinking and looking away from Francis' eyes.

Francis smiled softly, "I'm glad." Arthur flickered his eyes to him, and then watched silently as he raised a hand to reach across the table, and slip his warm fingers between his own. Arthur pulled back his arm as if it was a venomous snake. "Not in public, idiot! There might be people here from the performance, and see us."

"So what? You're leaving this dreary city anyways.", Francis retorted, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. Arthur rolled his eyes, "I want to leave with a good reputation and image." Francis raised his eyebrow in a mocking way, "You think you have a good reputation as it is? And you think being with me will ruin it?" Arthur pressed his lips together, and looked away, remaining silent.

Francis sighed, "Anyways, should..you start packing? We could start tomorrow, perhaps?" Arthur smiled at the idea of packing and leaving this place for good, being farther away from his responsibilities and most importantly, his father. Although, he would be missing his brothers. But he hasn't talked to them in a while, anyways.

With a shrug, he exhaled, "We'll see. I just need to sleep." Francis nodded with a soft smile, watching Arthur with very much love in his eyes, just as their waitress walked up, with a small smile on her lips at seeing Francis with Arthur.

* * *

><p>A light groan emitted from Arthur as he rolled over, the covers moving with him. He stopped at Francis' side, instantly curling his leg up and over his partner's. He sighed and moved his hand up Francis' stomach, to rest on his chest. The warmth from his skin hugged his fingers, and the heat coming from his side warming Arthur. It caused him to slip back into slumber, another light sigh escaping his lips.<p>

About an hour later, he could feel fingers stroking through his short locks, stirring him from sleep. He drowsily blinked his eyes open, only to clench them shut again, the sunlight pouring into the room from the window. He could see a light red once he closed his eyes, the sunlight resting on his eyelids. He sighed, and turned his head, the uncomfortable aching on his eyes leaving.

"You're cute when you sleep."

"Shut up.", he mumbled, raising a hand to rest it over his eyes. It was so warm and comfortable, he just wanted to go back to sleep. He exhaled and dropped his arm, before he snuggled back into the other's side, draping his arm over his waist. A hand rested on his bicep.

After a minute, he mumbled, and pulled away, the new position unsatisfying to sleep in. The hands on him moved away. He opened his eyes and kept them open, blinking rapidly a few times. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, and sat up, the blanket falling down to his waist.

"How long did I sleep?", he murmured, raising his knees to rest his elbows on them, his back hunched. "How should I know? I was asleep, too.", he got as a sarcastic reply.

"You idiot, when did we go to sleep?", Arthur said, glancing over at Francis. A lazy smile spread over Francis' lips. Arthur eyed him, noticing how his hair was all messy and his eyes looked tired. He looked better this way, not all perfect and pampered, Arthur had thought as he reached over to brush his bangs back with his fingertips. Normal.

"Well, we went to sleep around twelve, and now", Francis began, glancing at the clock, "it's ten. You do the math." Arthur's lips cracked a smile, and he raised a palm to lightly smack him on the shoulder. Francis faked absolute pain.

"Moron.", Arthur stated, and then leaned over to press their lips together. Francis' hand had wandered up his back, to rest at the nape of his neck. Arthur's hands had met with Francis' cheeks, his lips moving with his boyfriend's. The sounds of their kissing were the only sounds they heard besides the occasional chirp of birds outside, or the humming of cars passing by the apartment complex. And the rustle of the covers when Arthur had positioned himself above Francis, his hands now on both sides of him on the bed, supporting his weight.

By the time he pulled back to inhale sharply, his heart was already racing, and his face was flushed. He opened his eyes to look down at Francis, gazing at him until he had opened his eyes, revealing his blue irises.

Arthur smiled down at him – sincerely. He loved the way there was some extra stubble disorienting his usual trim, the way his hair was spilled out over the pillow, casting a wonderful glow from the sun playing on the locks. Strangely, it was cheesy and beautiful, and perfect. Things Arthur never used to think, when he was lonely.

And when a smile broke over Francis lips; revealing his white teeth, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling, showing a little bit of maturity and age, a small clench tightened around Arthur's heart, making it flutter and his arms grow slightly weak. He felt like he was going to burst with love, and if he didn't express it soon, he would.

He leaned down to passionately kiss him on the smiling lips, moving his hands to caress Francis' cheeks. Francis began to instantly return the kiss, sliding his hands up Arthur's thighs and over his back. Their lips pressed and moved together, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows and feeling Francis slide his tongue out and lick his lips. He opened his mouth and let Francis' tongue intrude past his lips, feeling the softness and gentleness of his tongue and it's movements over his own. He hummed lightly, pleasantly, and ran his tongue over Francis', moving his hands over his jawline, feeling the tickle of his stubble.

As he kissed him, he slid his hands down his neck, his fingertips drifting over his Adam's apple, and stopped at his collarbone, keeping them there as their lips and tongues rolled together. Breathing heavily through his nose became a hassle, so he pulled away, his lips wet.

With pants emitting from him, he stared down into Francis' lovely dark blue irises, moving his hands from his collarbone down to the bed again, to support his weight. He leaned down, to where their lips were barely touching, his eyes fixed on Francis'. He felt Francis move his hands down his back again, slowly, and stopped at his waistband, slipping a finger or two past.

"Let's do it. One last time before we leave.", Arthur whispered, his eyes searching in the other's. A smirk spread over Francis' lips, his hands sliding in past the waistband of his underwear, over his backside. "Gladly.", he replied quietly, and then moved his hands lower, sliding his underwear down with them.

Arthur closed his eyes and pressed his lips down on Francis' again, only to pull back a moment later. He opened his eyes and waited for Francis to open his.

"Get on top of me.", Arthur said, before he moved from over Francis, to his back. Francis licked his lips and then got off his back and moved his leg over Arthur's waist, as Arthur placed his hands on his hips, and straddled him. He looked down at him before he leaned down and connected their lips again, closing his eyes.

Arthur hummed and moved his hands up Francis' sides, before he maneuvered them to his hair, brushing it back over one of his shoulders. Francis kissed him with vigor and passion, his lips overlapping his repeatedly and his tongue slipping out again to move into his.

The deep kiss made Arthur giddy inside, as well as turning him on. He pressed his lips back, moving his hand up to rest it on the back of Francis' head, under and over locks of his hair. He could get used to being kissed this way in the morning.

Arthur moved his hands around to rest them on Francis' neck, his breath coming out heavily through his nose. Francis could feel him push lightly, realizing he was out of breath. He instantly pulled away, breathing heavy himself, and looked down at him. Arthur panted, and opened his eyes to gaze up at him. Francis could see his want in his irises, and it made him smile lightly, with a hint of a smirk.

"You take my breath away.", Arthur joked with an amused tone, moving his fingertips over Francis' collarbone, and then hooked his arms around his neck. Francis smiled wryly, and then leaned down to touch the tip of Arthur's nose with his, staring into his eyes.

Without a word, he turned his head at an angle and softly kissed him on the lips. Then he pressed his lips delicately to the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek. Arthur's breathing steadied by then, but his heartbeat was still abnormal. He remained silent and still as Francis began kissing up and down his jawline, his hands moving to rest at the back of Arthur's head.

Arthur licked his bottom lip, feeling his stomach flutter and his cheeks grow hot from the loving kisses and caresses. For some reason, he'd told Francis – more like yelled at him - that he "disliked" this before, but he had no idea why. He loved it, really. Being touched like this, given the attention. Given the love. He exhaled at the thought, and smiled.

Francis, unaware of his thoughts, had moved to his neck, and began pressing his lips softly to his Adam's apple and then under his jaw, his fingers threading in his short locks. His hair was very soft, Francis had realized. He never really paid attention to it before – he did like it, don't get him wrong, but it was very..nice. Like silk, almost, as an exaggeration.

Arthur closed his eyes and slid his hands down Francis' biceps, to rest them at his elbows, and moved his head to the side, to let Francis move to the other side of his neck. Francis paused and then began kissing there too. At one point, he pulled away to look at Arthur's closed eyes.

"Where..do you want me to touch?", he asked lightly, earning Arthur's attention and eyes. Arthur remained silent for a moment, thinking about it, where he wanted his hands. He blinked and then blushed lightly, dropping his eyes.

Francis smiled gently, thinking it was cute.

He watched as Arthur raised his palm out, "Give me your hand." Francis gladly raised his hand from his hair and placed it in his. Arthur then slid his fingers down to wrap them around his wrist, and then directed his hand down to his stomach.

After exhaling a shaky breath, Arthur let go of his hand, and rested his head back down on the pillow, his head turning to the side. Francis flickered his eyes to him, seeing his eyes close. He licked his lips before he began to run his fingers in a circular motion around his stomach, massaging it with sensation.

With his eyes on Arthur's face, he noticed his eyebrow twitch and his mouth open. So, he liked being touched here apparently, and he never knew. At least he was learning new things. A smirk spread over Francis' lips. He leaned down to Arthur's shoulder and began nipping at the skin, his eyes closing. He moved higher, up his neck and then began biting at his jaw. He could now hear Arthur's shuddered breath.

He felt a shiver run through him once he moved his fingers higher up his abdomen, and then back down again. Francis ran his other hand down, over his thigh, and then dipped in low to grab his hard cock.

A gasp came from Arthur, and his knees raised slightly, on both sides of Francis. Francis began to rub the head with his fingers, and then moved his fingers downwards, before tugging them back up. Arthur made a noise in the back of his throat, pleased with having both his stomach and arousal given attention. Francis kissed his freckled shoulder, enjoying the reaction he was getting.

But then, the next thing they heard was not expected.

A few hard knocks came from the front door. Arthur had instantly gone rigid, as well as Francis, and his eyes shot open. When it went silent again, Arthur hissed, "Fuck!" Francis sighed, knowing this situation all too well.

"Francis, get off.", Arthur whispered, and placed his hands on the bed, and began to push himself up into a sitting position. Francis looked up at him, hesitant. Arthur's lips twisted into a grimace. "_Get __off!_", he growled. Francis pressed his lips together before he took his hand off his stomach and penis. He sighed again before he turned to sit against the headboard, beside Arthur.

With haste, Arthur climbed off the bed to search around for his sweatpants. And once he found them shoved in the closet, he yanked them on – tripping on the pant leg, but caught his balance – despite his erection that was dying quickly. When another, softer, knock came from the door, Arthur cursed aloud. "Hold the fuck on.", he mumbled to himself, before he adjusted the sweatpants and ran his hands through his hair. Glancing back at Francis, he saw him on the bed with an unamused expression, the blanket draped over his waist.

Arthur sighed himself and then walked to the door and reached up to angrily unlock it. As he opened it slightly, he snarled, "This better be worth my bloody time."

But, once he raised his eyes to the interrupter, his blood ran cold and his mouth went dry. And, his heart fell to the depths of his stomach. This was just his luck.

"A-Alfred? What the hell are you doing here?", he sputtered, closing the door a little bit more, so he couldn't see inside. Said Alfred's forced smile dropped. Arthur noticed, and cleared his throat, throwing a glance back at Francis.

"Uh, I'm..I'm sorry. That was rude of me. What I meant was, how did you find my apartment?", he corrected himself, raising his eyes back to Alfred's dark blue irises. His heart gave a small kick once he saw Alfred looking at his bare chest.

"I-", Alfred began with his familiar American accent as he glanced past Arthur's naked torso to see Francis sitting on the bed. His eyes widened ever so slightly before his hand shot up and covered his mouth. Arthur's hand clenched on the door knob.

"Oh god! Oh god, fuck, did I..did I interrupt something?", he whispered, his voice muffled slightly by his hand. Arthur's hands grew sweaty, his eyes darting back into the apartment. He swallowed, and then looked back at Alfred, shaking his head.

"N..No! N-No. It's..It's..", he began, his voice betraying him horribly. He gave up with that sentence and exhaled. "Just give me a second."

With that, he shut the door in Alfred's face and strode to his closet.

"Who was that?", Francis began, watching Arthur yank a t-shirt off a hanger. "Just a friend, forget about it.", Arthur replied as he scrambled to pull the shirt on, messing up his hair. Francis pressed on, "A friend with history? I saw how he looked at you."

"Shut up.", Arthur said, but then glanced at him. "It's nothing. We're just childhood friends. It's nothing, alright?" He then grabbed his red jacket and threw it on, as Francis remained silent. Once Arthur yanked on his boots, he walked to the nightstand and snatched his cigarettes and phone.

"Look, I'll be gone for an hour or two, but I'll be back. I just need to talk to him, I haven't seen him in years.", Arthur said with a hurried tone, the leather of his jacket straining as he leaned over to press a quick kiss to Francis' forehead. He pulled back, his hand resting on the back of Francis' head, feeling his soft hair.

"I'm sorry. We can continue afterwards.", he said sincerely, his eyes looking into Francis'. Francis looked down for a moment before raising his eyes back to him, "He's waiting for you." Arthur frowned but then leaned down to kiss him strongly on the lips, his eyes closing.

"Don't worry.", Arthur said before he patted him on the head and turned to walk to the door. Francis watched him as he yanked the door open, and paced out, shutting it behind him.

Arthur sighed as he stood outside his apartment, his arms and face instantly chilled with the cold. Shaking the thought of what was to come, he walked to Alfred, who was leaning over the fence of the balcony outside the door. Arthur looked at him before he turned and rested his back against the fence, his eyes staring at his door number.

Only silence lingered, and Arthur grew cold. He never glanced at Alfred. He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling for his cigarettes. Once taking out his pack and lighter, he plucked a cigarette out and returned the pack to his jacket's pocket.

A dance of lights brightened up his face as he lit the cigarette between his lips, his eyes closing for a moment. He let his lighter join his pocket, and raised his hand to hug the cigarette and inhale, before pulling the cigarette from his lips, and holding the cancer before he exhaled, the smoke mixing with his fogged breath.

His eyes watched the smoke, until he risked a glance at Alfred. He saw him staring out at the parking lot, his glasses the same he's had for years. And, as always, a stray strand of hair was poking out from the rest, as he remembered it. He looked down him, realizing he was skinnier, not as chunky. Arthur realized, with a sad smile, that he's changed in many different ways. Perhaps, in some ways that cannot be seen.

"I've always imagined hearing that British accent of yours again.", Alfred finally began, glancing over at him, their eyes meeting. Arthur looked away, hating meeting eye contact with him. He exhaled again. "It's not going to change.", Arthur said simply, and took another inhale of his cigarette.

"But, you have.", he heard him observe. "Not as grumpy, hm? And no piercings anymore. Or attitude. Well, there is still a little." He said, his tone teasing. Just as Arthur remembered it.

"People change.", Arthur replied flatly. He heard the strained laugh that came from Alfred. He knew that laugh, it was the laugh he used when he didn't want situations to be awkward or uncomfortable. But, it only made it worse. Only Alfred thought it would lighten it, being the oblivious person he was.

"I know that."

Arthur squinted at the door.

Another long pause of silence followed, making Arthur grind his teeth in the time being wasted. The time that could be used to having sex with Francis again.

"Enough with the bullshit. Why are you here, Alfred?", he demanded, looking over at him. Alfred was still staring at him, his eyes locking with his. Arthur instantly grew uncomfortable, but he didn't avert his eyes, not wanting to give in so easily. Alfred smiled at him, Arthur pursing his lips slightly, not wanting to be drawn in by it as he used to. But, it was no use to bother with it now, he was in love with someone else.

"Hey, you know I haven't been here in a while, but that new café over there looks awesome.", Alfred said in a friendly tone, motioning towards the direction of this café. Arthur frowned sadly, his eyes dropping slightly.

Alfred saw it and looked at him, his eyes growing soft in what could be nostalgia or love. "Would you like to accompany me?", he added in a gentle tone, earning Arthur's eyes again. Arthur frowned with irritation this time. "I-"

"I won't take no for an answer, as you may know.", he said in a sing-song voice, before Arthur could object. Arthur's lip twitched. "Fine. You're paying, though." Alfred's face lit up with a bright, teeth-showing smile, that made Arthur's hand clench.

"Great! C'mon, then.", Alfred said with giddiness, before he reached over to take hold of Arthur's hand that wasn't holding his cigarette. Arthur made a face before he yanked his hand away and hissed, "Don't touch me." Alfred's smile strained, but he continued to grin nonetheless, as if nothing happened.

Alfred looked away and strode to the stairs with big steps, Arthur watching him. Arthur sighed, his thoughts flooded with memories. He frowned, feeling suddenly melancholic. After dropping his cigarette on the concrete, he ground it down before he walked after him, his hands sliding into his jacket's pocket.

* * *

><p>The overpowering smell of flowers and spice welcomed Arthur as they entered the new café, a small bell ringing softly above the door. Alfred looked around the interior with awe, his eyes bright.<p>

Tables with matching mahogany chairs were scattered about the café, four sets of silverware placed at all four seats. At each table, there was a small basket that held jam, salt and pepper, and ketchup. As well as sugar meant for coffee or tea.

Pots of flowers sat about; one at the foot of the door, another on the cashier counter, and a few others on the large windowsill. A soft song of some sort of Italian played from a stereo in the corner. And, there was a big chalk board positioned behind the counter, on the wall, that had multi-colored chalk-written words filling it, listing the different types of cappuccino, tea, desserts, and snacks.

Arthur promptly smiled, instantly loving the place. "Dude, this place is wonderful.", Alfred said with breathless amazement. Arthur rolled his eyes before he walked past him, and made his way to one of the tables that sat beside the large window that covered basically the entire wall. Alfred soon took his seat opposite of him, the beautifully-carved chair scraping quietly against the tile.

Glancing around the café, Arthur noticed a man sitting at the cashier counter, his head in his arms on the table, his shoulders raising and falling softly after each inhale. He had dark brown hair – with a reddish tint – and a single strand strayed out away from the others, sticking out. Arthur stared at him, concluding he was snoozing on his job.

But then a clone of him bustled out of the door that probably led to the kitchen, another pot of flowers in his skinny arms. Realizing he wasn't a clone, but a twin, Arthur watched him as he walked across the café without noticing them, and placed the pot of flowers beside the stereo.

"_Bella! __Semplicemente __bello._", he said, the Italian rolling off his tongue with ease, his voice soft but cheerful. Arthur smiled lightly, and watched him as he turned on his heels, his eyes meeting with his. Then he jumped slightly and a grin broke over his lips. Arthur stared at his soft complexion as he approached their table with hurried steps. Alfred finally looked back at him, hearing his footsteps.

He was wearing a pair of brown slacks, and a black t-shirt, the sleeves down to his elbows, an apron tied around his waist. "Hello! Welcome! W-What would you like for a drink?", he greeted, his voice quivering from excitement. Arthur glanced at Alfred, seeing a smile on his lips.

"I'll just have coffee!", Alfred said brightly, before looking at Arthur. Arthur blinked before he averted his eyes to the cute Italian. He glanced at his name tag, before raising his eyes back to him, "Tea for me. Thank you, Feliciano."

Feliciano smiled and nodded, before he turned and walked to the counter where his co-worker was sleeping. "Lovino, get up!", Feliciano sternly said in Italian, shaking him on the shoulder. Then, the other twin woke up and grumbled something, his face twisting into a glare at the other. "We have customers, so get your act together.", Feliciano continued, not shying away from his glare, all too used to it. "Why don't you get your act together and leave me alone?", Lovino shot back in his fluent Italian, before he huffed and hid his face back in his arms. Arthur watched the whole thing with amusement as Feliciano sighed and stormed back into the kitchen to make their drinks.

Arthur eventually averted his attention back to Alfred, returning his gaze back to him. He wasn't going to start the talking; Alfred would have to go through the trouble of that. He was the one that turned out of nowhere and insisted on bringing him here, so he was going to be the one uncomfortable.

Only, Alfred stared straight back in his eyes, Arthur seeing that familiar look in his dark blue irises. He pressed his lips together, and gave up, looking out the window instead. A few minutes passed of silence before Feliciano returned with their drinks on a tray, two clinks sounding as he set the glasses before them, steam emitting from the mugs.

"Have you decided on a food, or do you just want your drinks?", Feliciano asked, his Italian accent heavy (Arthur noted mentally he was obviously new to speaking English). He hooked his tray under his arm, and took out a notepad and pen. Arthur glanced at the chalk board, and scanned the different dishes. Deciding he was a bit peckish, he quickly chose one.

"A banana muffin, please.", he said, forcing a friendly smile. Feliciano nodded and looked at Alfred. Alfred shook his head, "Nothin' for me." Feliciano nodded again before he returned his notepad to his pocket, not bothering to write down something as trivial as a muffin.

Once he strode away to the kitchen, Arthur cleared his throat. He stared at the tea, willing for it to grow cooler.

"You like tea? Since when?", Alfred began instantly, shifting in his seat. Arthur raised his eyes to him, a blank look on his face. "I 'unno. A few weeks ago?", he mumbled, reaching a hand up to take his spoon and slip it into the steaming tea, and stirred it slowly. He stared at it distantly, thinking.

"What happened to your jacket?", Alfred asked, seeing the slash in the fabric on his sleeve. Arthur glanced at the rip, and then up to Alfred. "Uh, it got cut.", he said the obvious, and then returned to silence and stirring.

He heard a frustrated huff come from Alfred, and knew he was being difficult. Satisfied with stirring, he placed the spoon back on the napkin – which grew a brownish wet spot from the tea drops lingering on the spoon – and hooked his ringed fingers through the handle, and lifted it to his lips. He flickered his eyes to Alfred, seeing him watch as he took a drink. Sighing, Arthur only took a sip and returned it to the table.

"What are you doing here, Alfred?", he demanded, deciding the stalling went on long enough. Alfred pursed his lips, and stared down at his black coffee, his hands in his lap. He remained quiet for a moment, thinking of a response. Arthur waited patiently, as long as he got answers.

"Who was that on your bed?", Alfred retorted, raising his eyes to Arthur's again. Arthur frowned and slitted his eyes at him, and grit his teeth. Nosy prick.

"My boyfriend.", he growled, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He noticed the flicker of anger and pain on Alfred's face, but it went as soon as it came, which was replaced with a blank expression.

"Now, answer me. What the fuck are you doing here?", Arthur said slowly, letting his anger lace with every word. Alfred's lip twitched, but Arthur could see him exhale, as if he was trying to calm himself. Alfred then took a drink of his coffee, his eyes glaring at the dark liquid.

He set it down with a loud, aggravated clink, and looked at Arthur again. But, before he could answer, Feliciano strode up with a small plate in hand. He placed it before Arthur before he smiled, but noticed their expressions, and furrowed his brow. Without saying a word, he turned and walked back to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at them.

Arthur stared down at the muffin, no longer in the mood for it. Ignoring his hunger, he raised his eyes back to Alfred, now expecting him to answer the damn question. Alfred frowned.

"Why do you hate me?", he danced around his question once more, his tone quiet. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, before he placed his hands on the table, and stood, the chair squeaking. Alfred watched him, his eyes wide.

"If you're not going to answer my bloody question, then I'm going.", he ground out. Alfred shook his head, and reached out to place his hand over Arthur's on the table. Arthur resisted the urge to pull it away, and glared down at him.

"Wait. Please, just tell me why. I'll try to change for the better, really, I will.", he begged, his eyes sad and terrified. Arthur licked his bottom lip, staring down at him. He exhaled, and sat back down. He knew he was being selfish and stubborn. But he didn't want to even see him. Even if he was madly in love with him before, it's changed now. If Alfred was expecting to make everything "better" and back to "normal", then he was just wasting his time, and Arthur's.

Arthur took a big drink of his tea before he set it back down. "Firstly, I never said I hate you.", he began.

"But why-", Alfred protested. "_Secondly_, you can't get better.", Arthur snapped, his tone harsh. Alfred's face made that same pained expression as before, which made Arthur's heart clench. Arthur shook his head. "But I could never hate you. Why would I? You were my best friend. You're too..perfect. I guess.", he said, looking away at the pot of flowers by the stereo. "You try. You try too hard to be the best for me. That's the best man I can think of.", he admitted quietly. He then raised his eyes to Alfred, "But, you're selfish and arrogant and oblivious. And you just try _too _hard." Alfred frowned, and looked down at his hands on the table.

"You try too hard to please me. And you know how unbearable that is? Stop trying to win me back. I don't love you anymore.", Arthur finished, before he stood again. Alfred didn't even raise his eyes to him.

Arthur looked over at him with pity, "Just get over it. Move on with your life, find someone else that isn't _me_." Alfred glared up at him, "But that's the thing, Arthur! I can't! I can't because.." He swallowed, "Because I'm still in love with you, and..and I want you to give me a second chance." Arthur's face flushed slightly, and he gazed into his blue eyes, recalling all the times he's seen them smile and all the love and adornment in them.

"No. How..How could you ask me something like that?", he said in a disbelieving tone. Alfred shot out of his seat just as Arthur began to walk out. "Wait! P-Please..Artie, just-"

"Don't call me that blasted name!", Arthur snarled, not bothering to look at him. Alfred then grabbed him on the forearm, stopping him from going any farther. Arthur turned to face him, his eyes livid. "Get your hands off me.", he seethed. Alfred instantly pulled his hand off, but was ready to grab him again if he threatened to run. "Then just talk with me. Stop running away, like you always do."

Arthur's anger slowly began to ease away into nothing once he heard that, his hands unclenching. Alfred knew he had him then.

Arthur sighed, feeling extremely tired now. "Alright, then. What is it?", he mumbled, looking away. Alfred exhaled a shaky breath, and reached out to take hold of Arthur's hand in his own. Before Arthur could yank his hand away, he tightened his grip so he couldn't.

"Please, just let me.", he said, and watched Arthur's reaction. Arthur frowned sadly, feeling the familiar warmth of his hand. He didn't reply, and let him caress his hand. He felt his thumb run over his skin repeatedly, soothingly.

He even let Alfred slide his rings off. Alfred smiled lightly, glad he could now hold his hand as natural as it could be, no rings or anything in the way. It made him blush, and his heart beat abnormally. His hand was as smooth and cold as he remembered it. Only, it wasn't as bony as it used to be. He finally decided to start eating, then. And that made Alfred extremely happy.

"Look, this turned out in no way I imagined it. I hadn't planned on saying all that stuff.", he finally spoke after a minute, his voice quiet. Arthur hated to admit he missed Alfred's hand holding his own, and it warmed his fingers.

"I came just to apologize. Uh, and that I don't want to end things badly. I miss being your friend, too. I don't want to lose the closest friend I've had for more than ten years. Nuh-uh.", he said, his voice more courageous. Arthur's lips twitched in warning of a smile, recalling all those years in school with him.

He used to be bullied in elementary (and highschool, but that had to do with his sexuality, which isn't important right now) about his size, until Alfred took his side. Arthur was the quiet one in school with the good grades, and no friends. So, once someone finally cared for him, he wasn't sure how to act. But, Alfred, being the out-going and nosy boy he was, insisted to sit with him during lunch everyday, and play with him during recess. He constantly called him 'eyebrows' and teased him about how boring he was (never really meaning any of it, because he truthfully was glad he had at least one friend who didn't want to talk to him 24/7), until Arthur got the courage and impatience to tell him to shut up. And after that, they started hanging out before and after school.

That continued until their senior year in highschool, when they firstly became lovers. It became a lot more awkward and stressed at first, from the bullying, but then they slowly eased into the not-so-shy kissing phase. But once they graduated, it got a lot more complicated.

"So, I am honestly sorry for lying to you, Artie.", Alfred whispered, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts. Arthur pressed his lips together, and reached his other hand out to rest it over Alfred's bicep. He heard Alfred's sharp intake of breath, and raised his eyes to his, and smiled lightly. Alfred saw his smile, and stared.

"I don't forgive you, but it's fine.", Arthur said quietly. Alfred paused, and nodded, deciding that was enough of forgiveness from someone like Arthur. Alfred felt like he was going to melt, his eyes staring into Arthur's. He loved him so much, _so much_, but he knew he couldn't have him back in his arms. To be his once more. It was so close, but he had to mess it up. He could never take it back, and that's what broke his heart.

He felt Arthur move his hand down his arm to hold onto his other hand that was holding his rings, his fingers soft and gentle. The same gentleness he felt from before. But it left him once Arthur took his rings back and pulled his hand away.

"By the way, Alfred, how did you find my apartment?", Arthur asked lightly. Alfred blinked and then hesitated to answer, but did nonetheless.

"From..your dad."

Arthur grew rigid, before he pulled his hand from Alfred's. His forgiving mood instantly evaporated, but he didn't snap at him. "Oh.", he said.

"I-It's not like I knew your phone number..if you have a phone. I-uh, I had no one else to turn to. He wasn't cold with me though. He was..he was actually kind of glad to speak to me again. I-I mean not that it matters.."

"Just shut up, Alfred.", Arthur said, before he sighed. "Do you have a paper and pen or something? I could give you my number, if you'd like.", he offered, deciding it was best to try to get be more open with him.

"Oh! Uh, you have a phone now? That's cool. I have my phone with me, I can just put it in.", Alfred reached in his jean's pocket to take out his iPhone, and pressed the menu button. Arthur nodded. He waited for him to open the new contact page, and once Alfred said 'Okay, gimme it.', he told him his number.

Alfred quickly typed it in, and then put his name in, spelling it out. "A-r-t-h-u-r, K-i-r-k-l-a-n-d.", he said aloud, making Arthur smile. It could have been Jones, though, Alfred noted mentally, his smile becoming sad.

"Alrighty. I'll text you sometime or something, and then you'll have my number too.", he said, exhaling as he put his phone on sleep mode and returned it to his pocket. Arthur nodded lightly, and slid his hands into his jacket's pockets, feeling his cigarette pack.

"So, uh, I should be heading back. I don't want him to wait any longer.", Arthur motioned back in the direction of the apartment complex. "You should pay the bill, so they don't get worried that one of their first customers had dined and dash.", he continued.

Alfred nodded, making a face at the mention of 'him'. "Yeah, uh you were doing...I mean, yeah, okay. S-See ya, then.", Alfred mumbled, his words slipping up on his tongue. He blushed, can't believing he just said that.

Arthur eyed him, and then laughed, gaining Alfred's sharp attention at the sound. "Okay, haha, talk to you later, Al.", he snickered, letting his old nickname for him slip. Alfred's embarrassed smile grew into a teeth-revealing grin, loving to hear that again. Arthur nodded at him with a smile, before he turned and walked in the direction of the apartments.

The American watched him until he grew cold, and then turned to walk into the café, feeling the most accomplished he's felt in over three years.

* * *

><p>Arthur continued to think about Alfred and their past as he walked home, and even when he made his way through the parking lot, up the stairs, and to the door. He even dropped his keys with the thought of their 'first time' coming to his mind.<p>

Sweeping those thoughts under the rug, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open, the warmth of the room making him exhale. He shut and locked the door behind him, and then pulled his jacket off. He tossed it on the ground before he lifted his shirt above his head, revealing his crème colored skin.

He kicked off his boots and then jumped into bed, beside Francis. Francis remained silent the whole time, staring at his hands over the covers.

"Sorry about that, he wanted to talk.", Arthur mumbled, getting under the comforter. Francis hummed, "About what, if I may ask?" Arthur stared at the blanket, and licked his bottom lip.

"Uh, we were just catching up, I guess."

Francis nodded and then smiled, reaching up to brush Arthur's bangs back. Arthur raised his eyes to him, feeling his cheeks flush lightly. Francis leaned forward to press his lips to Arthur's strongly, moving his hand up farther into his hair.

Arthur kissed back lightly, before he pulled away, his thoughts still reminding him of his previous conversation with Alfred. He sighed, looking at Francis. Francis opened his eyes, and pulled his hand away. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah.", Arthur said, exhaling. "It's just..I'm not really in the mood anymore. I'm sorry." Francis paused, and looked disappointed, but nodded nonetheless, not bothering to speak his discouragement. Arthur smiled at him, relieved he didn't object or ask anymore questions he didn't want to answer.

* * *

><p><strong>Bella! Semplicemente bello. <strong>- Beautiful! Simply beautiful. (Italian, of course.)


	13. Chapter 13

"You know..you're really tense, again.", Francis noted the day after Alfred's visit. The day Arthur was supposed to pack and then suddenly move to France. And Francis had his doubts.

"It's a big decision. Don't expect me to be dancing around in joy.", Arthur replied, his fingers running over his bottom lip repeatedly, his eyes fixed intently on the carpet. Francis sighed and scooted closer, moving his legs on both sides of him. He draped his arms over Arthur's shoulders, curling them around his neck. He nuzzled into the back of Arthur's head, feeling his soft hair brush his face. He inhaled.

"It's almost one. Shouldn't we be packing by now?", he asked, pressing a kiss to Arthur's head. Arthur didn't speak, only blinked and exhaled deeply through his nose. "Should I say goodbye to my brothers?", Arthur asked quietly, thinking of his favorite older brother; the eldest. He couldn't give any less of a shit for his three other brothers, he just felt like he should say _something _to Alasdair.

"That would be the right thing to do, I think.", Francis murmured. Arthur ignored him, and didn't even consider it any further. "I don't know French. How the hell am I going to make a living in France? What am I even doing..", Arthur mumbled, dropping his hand from his face, his eyes cast down.

"You're not doing anything. You're just sitting here, hesitating.", Francis said, moving away to sit beside him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Arthur nodded, "Yeah, let's just go before I change my mind."

Francis glanced at him, "If you're considering changing your mind, then let's not. I want you to be positive." Arthur returned his gaze, and pressed his lips together. He remained silent for a moment, just looking in Francis' soothing, dark blue irises.

He exhaled and then reached over to place his hand over Francis', curling his fingers in to take hold of it. Francis squeezed his hand lightly in return. "I'm positive I want to be with you.", Arthur said lowly, staring back into Francis' eyes with a strong look.

Francis nodded this time, and leaned in to press a swift kiss to Arthur's lips, before he pulled back and smiled. "Alright, then. Should we start packing your things?"

"Yeah", Arthur said.

There wasn't much to pack, of course. Only Arthur's books, clothes, and other little things. It all fit in one big suitcase – all his smaller things in a pocket on the outside. So, after shoving it in Francis' car, they took their usual spots in the driver and passenger seats.

Arthur stared up at the apartment complex with a distant look, thinking of the last few years he's spent in it. Snorting, he realized how much of an asshole he used to be. Well, he still was, but not as much. Growing irritated with all the bad memories – save for the ones with Francis, he sighed and looked over at him.

Francis was staring up at the building too, his face almost blank, the small smile on his lips standing out. Arthur stared before Francis looked over at him, too. Arthur exhaled, and then leaned over between the seats to kiss him on the lips, closing his eyes and moving his hand up to caress Francis' cheek. He felt Francis' lips kiss back.

After satisfied with kissing him, Arthur pulled away and sat back in his seat. Francis reached forward to push the keys in the ignition, and twisted it, the car starting. He looked at Arthur one last time before he backed out of the parking space, and stared out the windshield when he drove out of the parking lot for the last time.

Silence lingered between them; Arthur staring out the window, Francis obviously focused on driving. Arthur watched as the familiar scenery passed by. After a few more minutes, Francis hummed to himself, flickering his eyes to Arthur.

"Hey, let's visit the restaurant one more time, hm? We're not in a rush, after all.", Francis spoke, smiling lightly, glancing back between the road and Arthur. Arthur eventually averted his eyes to him, and then nodded, before he looked back out the window, his elbow propping up on his seat's armrest, supporting his chin.

After that, they hadn't spoken, even when Francis parked and turned off the car. Arthur was still in thought when they were seated – by their former waitress – and their menus were placed before them. Arthur didn't move to open his, nor did Francis.

When their waitress had walked up and placed their glasses of water on the table, Francis opened his mouth to speak. "There are quite a few things I'm excited for, really.", he said, watching Arthur.

Arthur hummed, and crossed his legs under the table. "What would those things be?", he inquired with a hint of a sarcastic tone, his eyes fixed on Francis'. Francis grinned and leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs as well.

"Well, I'm glad I'll be able to cook for you. Your apartment didn't have a kitchen, which was a disappointment, so obviously I couldn't feed you."

"I didn't need you to feed me."

"Yes, well, you were broke and you would've starved."

"No, you're exaggerat-"

"_And_, I can't wait to show you my hometown, and all it's charm.", he said, reaching up to brush his hair back with pride. Arthur rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. Francis smiled genuinely, showing his teeth. "And I'll finally be able to share a bed with you. The bed I gave you wasn't nearly as comfortable and wide as my own back home. It was a poor excuse of a bed to share with someone."

Arthur snickered, not really disagreeing. "Hey, but you could've slept on the floor, y'know.", he said, grinning at him. Francis laughed nervously, "You're not that insensitive." Arthur reached forward to grab his glass of water and lifted it to his lips, "Go on."

"Let's see..", Francis hummed, "Oh! I also have this big empty backyard I have. You could use that for your new interest in gardening." Arthur smiled around the glass. "There's this café I could show you. And the restaurant I work at!", Francis said, growing more excited, a grin on his lips. Arthur placed the water back down, "Sounds great."

"Have you ever been to France?"

Arthur snorted, and shook his head, laughing internally at such a thought. What business would he have in a city full of smelly, hairy.._French_? It definitely held no interest of his (although, he wouldn't mind visiting the Louvre).

"No. I haven't."

Francis didn't really expect anything different, so he only smirked. "Really? Have you even left England? How unfortunate. It's a good thing we're moving to Paris, then!" Arthur glared, "Yes, actually, I have traveled outside of England!" He sat back, and averted his scowl to the table, "I've gone to America."

With an amused grin, Francis eyed him. "Only America?" Arthur raised his eyes back to him and snapped, "Yes!" Francis shrugged, "I've gone there before. Not so attractive. France is much better. Much more beautiful and extravagant. Although, California isn't that bad. A bit hot, though."

"You think I care what you think of a bloody foreign country?"

"Yes.", Francis replied instantly, looking at him with an entertained expression. With a flick of his wrist, Arthur jabbed his finger at him, "Well, I don't!" Francis smiled, and softly took Arthur's hand that was pointed at him, and smoothed it out. He held his fingers as he leaned forward to press a kiss to a knuckle. Arthur blinked, and a faint tint of blush spread over his cheeks.

Francis arched a brow, "Shall we just go, then?" The blood in Arthur's cheeks drained, and he pressed his lips together. He gently pulled his hand away, and placed it in his lap. He was still hesitant to go. London was where he was born and raised, and he's lived here ever since. Through his school years, and when he got his first own apartment and job. And even when he left that all behind for being a slacking musician.

But moving to a different country could mean him moving on. Especially if he was moving in with someone else. And still, he thought it was a bit early for that (it's a big step), but he did love Francis, so he saw no reason to not just _go_. That's what he'd done before with everything else.

"..Yeah.", Arthur breathed, finally deciding to not care and just be with him. That's what they both wanted, right? Francis beamed, his smile wide and revealing, his cheeks flushing slightly. Arthur smiled lightly in return, his lips tight and strained.

It was a humid, cloudy day outside past the window, Arthur observed, when they scooted out of the booth. Was it like that in Paris? He seemed partially distracted when Francis grabbed his hand, and guided him to the entrance of the restaurant. Even when Arthur's feet began to move, he stared out the window behind them, his eyebrows furrowed.

When he finally turned away, it was Francis was tugging him through the doors. Only, they stopped abruptly, and then suddenly Francis' lips were over Arthur's lips in a strong peck. Arthur flushed from surprise and sheer embarrassment, and his lips remained as still as stone. But Francis pulled away too soon to notice his frigidness, and he was too happy to notice how Arthur wasn't smiling like he was.

The last thing Arthur saw when he glanced back into the restaurant, was their old, memorable waitress looking at them with a big, genuine smile on her lips, too.

It all happened too fast for Arthur's liking. Before he even _processed_ what was happening, they were already sitting side by side in the first class section, on a plane set for Paris. As Arthur remembered, it was a dark, gloomy day when they sat and waited for the plane to lift off. His eyes were fixed distantly out at the dim sky, his hands trembling slightly, their harsh grip on the seat's armchairs hurting his fingers. Fuck, he was terrified. He forgot to mention he was afraid – more like devastated - of water. He _forgot _they would be traveling over theEnglish Channel. For all he knew, a horrible thunder storm could happen, and they could get struck, and plummet into the water.

"Arthur, love, what's wrong? You're pale."

Arthur snapped his eyes to Francis, feeling beads of sweat build on his face and arms. It felt cold. Francis looked at him with worry, and then pushed his own armrest up, and scooted closer.

Without a word, Francis wrapped a secure arm around Arthur's shoulders, and pulled him against his chest, Arthur's head on his shoulder. Francis, with his brow furrowed, could tell he was shaking.

"G-Get me off, please.", Arthur mumbled, and, with much concentration, released his tight grasp on his armrests to grab onto Francis, burying his face into his trench coat. Francis blinked, and placed his hand on Arthur's head, and began to stroke his hair.

"Why are you like this? Is something wrong? Should we get off?", he whispered, staring at Arthur's back, resting his cheek on his head. Arthur's shaking relaxed, but his cold sweat wouldn't go away, and his eyes would not ease. "I'm scared of, uh, water.", he mumbled, tightening his fingers around his coat. Francis frowned, and closed his eyes, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Arthur just _knew _Francis thought less of him now. What a foolish fear. Of course he should have learned to swim! He's lived on a bloody island his entire life, so it was stupid of him not to learn. And he always acted like a prick, so one would assume he had no fears. Francis was disappointed, most definitely.

That's what Arthur thought, as he trembled in Francis' arms, his eyes finally clenching shut at the thought. He exhaled a shaky breath, "..Because I was afraid. Please take me off this sodding plane. We can go to..stupid Paris another way, just please get me off." He kept his face in Francis' shoulder. He wanted off now, and he didn't want to go anymore. After a moment of silence, Francis exhaled deeply. "No.", he said quietly. Arthur clenched tighter against Francis. "Why?"

"We can get through this together, alright? You don't have to be afraid. I'll be here, so just depend on me.", Francis murmured, rubbing Arthur's shoulder as he kissed his head again. He's always let Arthur depend on him, so there was no real reason for him not to now. Arthur had plenty of fears that maybe Arthur himself may have not noticed, but Francis had helped him through those as well. He would just need Arthur's trust. But apparently, it wasn't as easy to obtain, once Arthur shook his head. Then, he twitched in his arms when he heard the intercom of the plane buzz.

"_I would like for all passengers put on their seatbelts now. We will begin lift-off. Thank you._", a feminine voice said briefly, before the intercom ended. Arthur bit his lip harshly and felt his head throb. He inhaled sharply, and let out a shaky breath. Francis gently pulled away slightly, Arthur clinging onto him, to pull Arthur's seatbelt around his small waist, and buckle it.

Once he maneuvered his arms around Arthur to secure his own, he returned his arms to hold and comfort Arthur. He looked out the window past him, seeing the ground begin to move snail-slow, and the clouds begin to shift. Francis exhaled.

"Arthur, this is stupid. We're no where near water right now. We're still on the ground, remember? No need for this."

Silence only replied to him, earning a sigh from him. Although, he did notice Arthur's shaking ceased, and his grip loosened. A moment went by, before he heard Arthur inhale. "Can you still hold me like this?", he asked, rubbing his face into his trench coat softly. Francis smiled, feeling his heart swell at that. He never thought he'd hear something like that from him.

"Of course."

When the plane finally lifted off the ground and climbed altitude, Francis gazed out the window, and continuously stroked Arthur's back. The sky was brighter over the clouds, from the sun being out. He could see the blanket of clouds below, the view soft and comforting. He heard Arthur breathe heavily, Francis debating whether or not to tell him they were over the water now. Arthur didn't need to worry irrationally, so he kept that bit of information to himself, and continued to rub his back.

It was kind of childish that Arthur was afraid. Although that may have been a heartless thing to think, Francis couldn't help but think it. Why was he afraid? Did he have hydrophobia for no reason? Why hadn't he told him?

Arthur remained silent the entire flight, focusing on not looking out the window. He kept his face hidden in Francis' coat for the entire hour, and when his ears began to hurt, he felt relief. That meant they crossed the water, and now they were landing in Paris.

Francis' eyes were still fixed out the window, staring down at all the buildings and tiny cars. Obviously, it hadn't changed at all, sadly. With a deep sigh, Francis patted Arthur on the shoulder. "We're landing, Arthur.", he said quietly into his ear. And just then, the flight attendant announced they were now in Paris. When Arthur peeled himself from Francis' arms, he blinked and turned around to look out the window as well.

It wasn't extraordinary, but it did strike Arthur amused. The buildings were much more crowded together, and a lot of the streets were one-way. He couldn't have a real opinion from this height, but it did look different from London. He never thought he'd come to this place, especially when there was so much different places in the world. He wounded up here.

The process of the actual landing, getting off the plane, and into the airport took another hour. Arthur was anxious all the while, biting on the inside of his cheek and twiddling his fingers in his jean's pockets. He rolled his rings on his fingers out of habit, when he did take them out of his pockets.

"So, what do you think so far?", Francis had asked when they made their way to the luggage claim, through the big crowd of Parisians and foreigners. Arthur flickered his eyes around, seeing signs or other various things in French, and some were of English. From just a glance, most people were dressed nicely. Then again, a few of the men were slobs. Not that Arthur cared. But the features of the women were a lot more distinct and petite than the English women that Arthur was used to. That was basically the only thing he liked thus far.

"It's..different.", Arthur replied, looking at the small girl that was by his side, clutching to her father's hand, a pink backpack over her shoulder.

Francis laughed, a few chuckles that earned Arthur's attention. Arthur cracked a small smile, "What?" Francis shook his head lightly, smiling back at him. "It's nothing. I'm just relieved you don't think it's absolutely horrible. Unless you're not telling me outwardly.", said Francis, as he took Arthur's hand in his own, threading his fingers with his.

Arthur felt his stomach flip, and felt warmth flow into his cheeks. He looked around, as if he was worried he would be caught holding the hand of his lover. As though it was a bad thing. Francis noticed, and his smile faltered a bit. He raised Arthur's hand to his lips, and pecked a finger. That received Arthur's attention again. Before Arthur could ask, they stopped in front of the luggage claim.

It took only a few minutes for his suitcase to show up, and for Francis to snatch it and instantly bustle Arthur towards the exit of the airport. Arthur followed behind, glancing back once again at the large crowd, and the various shops. He spotted the same girl looking at him this time, but with a forlorn expression on her face. Confused, Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at her just as Francis pulled him out the front doors, the bright sun distracting Arthur.

The whole process of calling a cab and waiting for it seemed like only a minute to Arthur, his eyes fixed on the sky and then over the people, and the big parking space full of various cars. And then he was suddenly prodded into the backseat of a taxi, his eyes fixed distantly on his lap as Francis helped the taxi driver with putting his suitcase in the back trunk.

And then once Francis slid in beside him, he blinked and looked up at him. Francis instantly grinned at him and leaned in to press a passionate kiss to his lips as the driver shut the trunk, and walked around the car. Just as the driver got in, Francis pulled away, and linked his hand with Arthur's again.

Arthur pursed his lips, an attempt to smile with reassurance, as the driver began accelerating. Francis ran his thumb over Arthur's, his legs crossed and his seat belt pulled over his torso, as was Arthur's. Arthur stared at him a moment more, before he looked away out the window, not sure what to think or how to judge Paris just yet.

When they finally turned out of the airport, it was just a big road, and that's all that Arthur saw.

The drive was quiet, and that's how Arthur preferred it. The drive, however, went longer than he had hoped. It was an hour long. All the while, he kept his eyes focused strictly out the window, his hand numb in Francis'. They had passed all the buildings that made him feel claustrophobic, some of them flower shops, and some of them bakeries. Some of them were hotels, and some of them were restaurants. There were a few streets they passed, that had rows of apartments. All of them had balconies, and all of them were either painted a light blue, a peach, or a pale pink. How sweet.

One building, Arthur distinctly remembered, had flowers and vines pouring from the pots that hung from the canopy above the front entrance of the public garden, and the sun shown on them beautifully, making Arthur turn in his seat to look back at it as they eased away from it. He stared until it grew into nothing, and then he sat back with a sigh, and resumed to staring out the window, out at the Parisians.

They had passed over a large river, the flowing water beautiful in Arthur's eyes. The roads were of stone, a few of them, and Arthur had spotted quite a few cats in the alleyways as they passed.

And then suddenly, they were out of all the huddling buildings, and away from the long streets of cafés, and the outside tables, and the bustling sidewalks. Away from the pollution of _French_. It burned Arthur's eyes.

But when they had left all that, it was a lot more..breath-taking. They were winding down a long road, hugged by only forest. He could see north and south, but not east and west. It was blocked by trees whirring by, and it made Arthur suddenly nostalgic, of his old hometown that he barely remembered. He only remembered trees all around.

Nonetheless, it was all nature. It was somewhat a bright day, so he could see the green. He could see the flowers and the dirt. That's all he saw until they broke out of that as well, into this big estate. Around this estate, it was a lot more flat. The trees may have been a warm welcome for any newcomers, and this showed that there was plenty of space for basically anything.

The first thing Arthur noticed was the cozy, two story Victorian house that sat in the left corner of the property. It was colored a dark violet, and had a few wide windows. It's door was a dark wood – probably mahogany – and it had this curled design on the front, with a fancy handle. Arthur noticed the pots of dead flowers around, and the untrimmed hedges and the filthy bird bath. The wooden porch swing strangely brought a smile to Arthur's lips, the quilt, with bird and flower designs, that was draped over the back comfortable looking.

Then, the cab stopped, and Francis cleared his throat. "We're here.", he had whispered into Arthur's unsuspecting ear, and peeled his hand away from Arthur's sweaty fingers. Arthur glanced at him, and smiled lightly. Francis looked at him before he unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door, and stepped out. Arthur did the same, only slower and more in a daze.

When he shut the door behind him, he gazed up at the house, seeing the soft white drapes through the windows. He could hear the driver get out as Francis opened the trunk, and then the soft tap of the wheels of his suitcase on the dirt.

Arthur licked his lips and then quietly walked to the front door, the dirt crunching under his boots. He felt the sun on his back when he stepped up the porch steps, the wood strong under his feet. He eyed the porch swing, eager to sit on it, but then averted his attention to the dead flowers that drooped sadly over the sides of the pots.

He crouched down, and lifted a hand to hold a flower up with the under of his fingers, his eyes fixed on the flaking petals, seeing how it's lost it's color. If he squinted, he could guess it used to be rosemary, or some other flower he recognized but couldn't place a name.

He heard Francis talk with the driver, paying for the ride, and a quick good-bye, thank you, and have a safe trip in French. Arthur pressed his lips together, and looked at the flowers with sincere disappointment and sadness they had to wilt, before he stood again. His legs hurt from sitting down for so long, and they continued to ache.

The cab, from what he could hear, was backing out of the dirt driveway, and turning around to escape down the road it came. Once he no longer heard the wheels on the dirt, he turned to face Francis, seeing him at the foot of the porch steps, his suitcase by his leg.

His face looked a bit relieved and concerned. Arthur exhaled and walked to the steps, the wood creaking a bit under him when he descended the first step, standing in front of Francis. He reached down to curl his fingers around the handle of his suitcase, and lifted it, looking in Francis' eyes.

"Well? Are you going to show me your _magnificent _house?", he asked, finally speaking. Francis' lips broke into a smile, and he nodded. "I wouldn't want you to sleep out here, after all.", he said, and walked up the steps, past Arthur.

Arthur exhaled deeply and turned to follow him.

When Francis got the door unlocked, and he pulled it open, the door creaking at it's hinges, Arthur looked past him, barely able to see in the very dimly lit inside. Although, the sun lightened it, so he could make out a crème carpet and a coat closet.

"Hm. It smells different.", Francis firstly observed, his tone a bit disappointed. Arthur arched a brow, wondering why that was the first thing Francis noticed. He watched as Francis walked past the doorframe, Arthur's eyes fixing on his form until he could barely see his shape.

He heard him shuffle around inside, before he heard a click, and then a light dimmed on. Once Arthur could see inside, he sniffed, and walked in. He looked around the interior as he quietly shut the door behind him, the wood soft on his palm.

The light Francis had turned on was a dimmer light. The chandelier hung above the table that was in the corner. It looked like mahogany, too, to Arthur, and it had a pair of shakers and napkins pushed against the side that was against the wall, as well as a little container that held sugars and jam.

Next to the table, behind the beautifully designed chair, was a doorway that lead into what seemed to be a room for the staircase. He averted his eyes to the wall farthest away, and saw a wide bookcase. And beside the bookcase, was a flat-screen television on a desk, a stack of books resting beside it on the wood. A couch rested against the wall that Arthur was standing at, the fabric designed with curling flowers.

All in all, it was extremely to Arthur's liking. There was also a fridge, stove, and counters for a kitchen, but it was trivial to be mentioned (although the fridge was dotted with papers that had scribbled handwriting, and there was also a photograph of a blonde girl). Arthur inhaled deeply for the first time, and it simply smelled of rosemary spice. It made Arthur grin.

Francis was watching the entire time he looked around, and then he walked to him once he saw his smile. He raised his hands to hold Arthur's cheeks, his fingertips resting over his ears. "What do you think?", he asked and then tilted his head and kissed Arthur on the lips with a strong, brief kiss.

It made Arthur have butterflies, and his exhale was wobbly. "I-It's..perfect, really.", he replied, and let go of the suitcase to hold Francis. He gave Francis another kiss, but didn't pull away. Francis smiled against his lips, and kissed back a few times before he retracted his lips from Arthur's, to look in his eyes.

"I'm glad. Shall we go to our room?", he murmured, flickering his eyes to Arthur's lips. Arthur ran his hands down Francis' sides, and rested them on his hips. He nodded, a thrill going through him at 'our'.

He left Francis guide him to the doorway that led to the staircase, leaving the light on and his suitcase behind. He let Francis pull his shirt off above his head at the foot of the stairs, and then work on his belt when they stumbled up the stairs, Arthur's hands shoving his trench coat down his shoulders.

Arthur had no time to admire the paintings on the hallway's walls (or didn't have the care to), but he had a glance, and he could see they were recognizably Picasso's work. He gasped at that, and as well as Francis' nips to his neck. He loved Picasso.

At one point, they stopped – actually, it was Francis shoving Arthur against a wall – and kissed harshly, Arthur's legs hiked up by Francis' hands. Arthur made a surprised noise when Francis suddenly carried him to his bedroom's door, Arthur's legs around his waist. It took a moment for Francis to find the doorknob, and to twist it, but when he got it open, Arthur smelled a strong scent of clean sheets. You know, that smell after sending your covers through the wash?

It made him want to be introduced to those sheets sooner, so he forced out of Francis' hold, and pulled him to where he thought the bed was. He knocked over a chair in the process, and stumbled over something on the floor, but when he felt the side of the bed press against his legs, he fell back, and hit his head on wood.

He had cursed loudly, but Francis only laughed and crawled on after him, knowing his room all too well. Arthur could feel the bed sink on both sides of him, and he could feel the cloth of Francis' disgruntled trench coat touching his side, so he assumed this was really happening.

Suddenly, the thought of having sex in _their _bedroom brought a new rush into Arthur, and he blushed deeply, and felt his heart race and his stomach dance. He gasped when he felt Francis yank his unbuckled and unzipped jeans down.

"Mm, Francis, can we..can we take this easy, please?", he spoke to darkness, his breath short. He felt a pair of lips press against somewhere on his neck. He heard a hum and the rustle of clothing.

"I don't want to be interrupted again.", Arthur heard Francis say, his voice obviously coated with lust and impatience. "I sincerely doubt someone's going to assume you're all the way out here right at this moment.", Arthur said, and then bit back a surprised moan when he felt a hand rub against the front of his underwear.

He only received silence, save for the toss of clothing onto the floor. He reached down to grab his hand, and pulled it up to place it on his chest, over his heart.

"Listen to me. I don't want this to end so soon. This happened all too fast for me, and I, at least, want this to be slow, and enjoyable. Don't rush this either, okay?", he said, finally adjusting to the darkness. He could see Francis' above him, and his hair curtaining his face. He heard a light exhale, and then felt the hand on his heart move up to hold his cheek.

"Right, I'm sorry. I..", Francis whispered, pausing. "I'm just nervous. I doubted you would want this, and..I thought you would leave. And I'm so relieved you haven't left..yet, and I just want to make love to you so much right now, I don't want to wait."

"We're not waiting anymore, though. It's happening right now, but you're making it go by faster.", Arthur replied softly, placing his hand over Francis' on his cheek. Somehow, how he added 'yet' to that, made his heart clench. Did he doubt him?

"Ah, right. I'm sorry.", Francis murmured. Arthur shook his head, "You don't have to apologize. Just get naked."

"I already am."

"Oh."

Then Arthur felt Francis kiss him again, strongly over the lips, Arthur surprised again. He moved his hand up into his hair, pulling it back, revealing his face. Arthur kept his eyes open, and looked at Francis' closed eyelids. He kissed back as he stared, barely able to make him out in the darkness. He could _see _him, just not the color. It was too dark to tell the definite shade, but it was still charming.

Arthur let his eyes drift close, and listened to their kissing and the shift of the sheets. He could feel Francis' hand move down, his fingertips brushing over his Adam's apple, and then over his collarbone. Arthur felt his tongue swipe over his lips. He pulled away for a moment to inhale sharply, and then pressed his lips openly against Francis', letting him slip his tongue in. He ran his fingers through Francis' hair, getting caught on a knot occasionally. When he did, he retracted his hand and ran his fingers through again.

It was really warm – Francis' tongue. It was soft on his, and it deepened the kiss. Arthur could feel his hand over his stomach now, massaging gently, caressing. When Arthur pulled his lips away for a breath, he panted and opened his eyes to see Francis looking down at him, breathing unevenly as well. Arthur stared into his eyes.

It wasn't just a simple color like _blue_. It was more like the sky on a cloudy day. Blue on the outside, and lighter on the inside. Aqua, maybe. Definitely attractive, charming eyes.

And as he thought that, Francis observed his eyes weren't just a _green_, but more like grass. Or like those pine trees – dark and magnificent.

Francis smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the space between his eyebrows. His hand had finally made it to the waistband of his underwear. Arthur sucked in a breath when Francis slipped his fingers past, slowly moving down, pulling the article of clothing with it.

Arthur raised his hands to place them over Francis' bare chest, feeling the hairs against his fingers. He ran his hands down slowly, and then eased them back up, over his collarbone, and hooked his hands over his neck.

When Francis moved his hands back up Arthur's smooth thighs, he titled his head at an angle and leaned down to kiss Arthur's neck again. Arthur smiled lightly to himself, and stroked Francis' hair to the side, over one of his shoulders.

He listened to Francis' soft lips pressing against his skin repeatedly, and their soothing breathing. He closed his eyes when Francis trailed his delicate kisses to his lips, their lips moving again. Arthur felt his stomach flutter for the hundredth time today, and his face flush, and his fingers tremble, resting over Francis' toned biceps.

It did feel nice to be loved. It definitely brought more meaning into his useless life, and he was surely not as miserable. Hopefully, he made the same impact on Francis. Did Francis realize he loved him dearly? It must be obvious. Unless, the lack of those three important words made Francis have doubts. Was it best to speak them aloud, then just in his head and heart?

Arthur became confused and frustrated for a moment, not so used to being in love, but then kicked those thoughts out the window, and just let himself enjoy the moment. He sucked in a breath when Francis disconnected their lips, Arthur hearing only Francis' breathing. It was different in darkness, the intimacy, that is.

You can actually pay attention to it all; the loving kisses, the warm hands, and the soft breathing of the person you love. Arthur scrunched his nose up, realizing how soppy and cliché he was being. He laughed.

"What?", he heard Francis breathe, and then felt fingers brush over his cheek. Arthur licked his lips, grinning. "Nothing." He felt him kiss the corner of his lips strongly, and then the side of his head. "Really? It does take a bit to make you laugh."

"Shut up, I laugh plenty."

"Mhm.."

Arthur's gasp ended the brief conversation, Francis fingers ghosting over the inside of his thigh. He inhaled when he felt Francis' long, agile fingers brush against his half-hard cock, coaxing it to life. The light touches made Arthur grow impatient, his hips beginning to fidget.

Francis continued to stroke only the tip of his fingers over the shaft, Arthur biting his lip. Arthur closed his eyes and lolled his head to the side when Francis finally began to stroke him sensually, the fabric of the comforter beneath them shifting when Francis positioned himself on his knees.

"Can we, uh, get under the c-covers?", Arthur asked in a breathy voice, his hands moving down Francis' biceps to rest at the inside of his elbows. He heard an inhale from Francis, "We can't when you're on top of them."

"Duh. So get off me."

Francis chuckled and then rolled over onto his side, letting Arthur sit up. Arthur pulled his legs against his chest and raised his butt to pull the plush comforter out from underneath him. He groped the fabric in his hand, feeling it soft in his fingers. He stretched his legs back out underneath it, and raised it for Francis.

When Francis moved closer, Arthur blushed. Once Francis had taken his place again, above Arthur, he took the covers from Arthur, and pulled it over them. It was instantly darker, and the heat quickly became more apparent. Arthur raised his knees, his legs hugging both of Francis' sides.

"Mm, good idea.", Francis purred in the darkness, with that same seductive tone Arthur recognized, before Arthur felt his fingers begin to touch him again. His heart began to race once more. The heat intensified, making Arthur begin to sweat already. He panted heavily from the lack of space and the tight air, but let it be.

Arthur reached up, trying to locate Francis' penis. He paused, feeling his palm press against hair. He poked around, and then felt the skin tremble. "Arthur, that tickles.", Francis said, sounding like he was holding back laughter. Arthur blush deepened, "S-Sorry."

Realizing he found his stomach, he slowly moved his fingers downwards, feeling the bristle hairs suddenly against his fingertips. He licked his lips, and ran his hand lower, his fingers running over the half-hard shaft of Francis' cock. Instantly, he began rubbing his fingers over the head, and then under, until he felt Francis grow hard in his hand.

He heard hislapsed breathing, and it brought a small smile to Arthur's lips. They touched each other in silence, until Arthur felt Francis move his hand back up his flat stomach, and then over his ribs and chest.

Arthur could barely breathe in the tight space, the air suffocating him, but he ignored it. The sweat on the back of his neck was annoying, and the sweat on his back felt itchy. He inhaled deeply, a gasp, and then harshly pulled the covers back, and inhaled again, letting in a lung full of fresh air. It was refreshing, and he sighed.

"That wasn't working so well.", he said, and let the blanket drape over Francis' lower back. He ran his hands up, over the skin. Francis hummed, but didn't reply, only leaned down to kiss him strongly on the lips again.

Arthur let his eyes drift close, and began to kiss him back softly, resting his hands over Francis' back. But then he felt Francis bite his bottom lip gently, and sucked on it. Arthur felt his face heat up, his eyes snapping open to look at him.

Francis was looking at him with a grin on his lips, Arthur's bottom lip still between his teeth. He let go, and then ducked down to bite Arthur's neck lightly. The Brit gasped in light surprise, that familiar warmth greeting his stomach.

He blushed and closed his eyes as Francis sucked on the skin of his neck, and pressed messy kisses, his hands sliding up and down Arthur's sides, over his ribcage and then down over the curves. One hand snaked around to begin stroking his arousal, his hand pumping on it gently. Arthur licked his bottom lip, and clenched his hands into fists on Francis' back.

Between kisses to his shoulder, Francis murmured words. Arthur couldn't understand them, and they definitely weren't English. He blinked, "Francis, are you speaking French? What are you saying?" He heard Francis inhale deeply. "Arthur," he whispered in his ear, and then pulled back to look at him, through the darkness. Arthur remained silent, staring back at him with slight confusion.

Although, no other words came from Francis. Instead, he lowered his head again and began kissing his freckled shoulders and his chest and down his stomach and abdomen. He adjusted himself, and looked up at Arthur with his eyes.

Arthur swallowed, and raised his knees a bit, his legs framing Francis. He watched as Francis cupped the side of his arousal, and then sucked in a sharp breath when he opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the other side. Arthur let his head fall back on the thick pillows, and closed his eyes. He didn't know why he was suddenly doing this, but he didn't mind at all.

Francis looked at him for a moment more before he closed his eyes and took the head in his mouth. He sucked harshly, and felt the heat on his tongue and lips. He opened his eyelids again and looked at Arthur, seeing his eyes closed and his mouth slightly agape.

Smirking, he took it deeper over his tongue.

Arthur bit his lip, much to Francis' satisfaction, and his own hands had wandered to his lower abdomen, massaging gently as Francis continued sucking and licking. When his nose suddenly met with his short, bristle hairs, and his mouth stretched out to take it all in, Arthur writhed, his back arching.

"Oh god, Francis!", he breathed, his head lolling a bit. Francis slowly retracted his head, sucking as he did so, letting his tongue drag up. Arthur was panting, and his legs were trembling a little. When Francis only had the head in his mouth, he slowly continued downwards once more, until all of it was in his mouth again.

"Ah, stop. Stop, I-I'm getting close.", Arthur said and then moaned. Francis smiled as he pulled up, pleased he could make Arthur feel this way. He gave his erection a few more fluid strokes, his hand getting wet from his saliva, before he sat back and licked his lips.

"Arthur, can you get the oil from the nightstand? It should be right there.", he said, a bit breathless. Arthur blinked, a bit in a haze, before he nodded and sat up. He reached out to his side, and felt around, before he felt a cold hard surface. He felt around, and then froze when he hit something, and it knocked over. It hit the floor, letting out a loud thud.

"I don't think that was it.", Francis said, Arthur hearing a hint of impatience. Arthur's fingertips hit against something, and he felt around it, realizing it was a round bottle. He grabbed it and pulled it back. "Uh, should we turn on a lamp or something?", he offered quietly, fiddling with the bottle in his hands.

He heard Francis move from the bed, and bit his lip. After a few footsteps, and a click, a light allowed vision. It didn't fill the whole room, only by the bed. Arthur looked up at Francis, seeing him bare of clothes, and his hair over one shoulder. He licked his lips, and watched as he dimmed the lamp to it's lowest light.

"There. No more interruptions now."

Arthur frowned. "Sorry."

Francis turned to face him and then climbed onto the bed beside him. "No, no, it's okay. I can see you now, so it makes it all better. And easier.", he whispered, reaching out to pull Arthur into his lap.

Arthur remained silent, blushing a little bit when Francis' erection pressed against his inner hip. Francis was looking into his eyes with a smirk, making Arthur fidget with the oil bottle again. "Are you nervous?", he purred, running his hand up and down Arthur's back. Arthur cleared his throat, and eyed him. "No. Let's get on with it."

"What about taking it slow?"

"We already did that part, so.."

Francis laughed, and adjusted under Arthur. "Of course. Now, I would like to try this position.", he said lightly, turning Arthur a little so he was facing him in his lap, his legs on both sides of Francis. Arthur felt his heart hammer in his chest, his face burning. "I-I..you want me to ride you?"

"Oh, you won't be the one doing the work, I'll use my hips, too."

Arthur bit his lip, and nodded, a bit excited. He never did this position before. Although, Francis wouldn't be able to go in as..deep.

"Okay, so uh, let me..", Arthur mumbled, and shifted to prop up on his knees. Francis sat back against the bed, and simply watched Arthur.

Blushing, Arthur inhaled deeply, and lifted the bottle. He clutched it in his hands, wrapping the bottle with his fingers. He remained like that for a minute or two, to let it warm up. Then, he opened the cap, and titled it cautiously, only for the oil to flow out a bit quickly, taking Arthur by surprise. It spilled out all over his hand, and dripped onto Francis' thigh.

He gasped, and instantly retracted the bottle. The oil was warm in his hand, but it was slippery. He sniffed, and looked up at Francis, feeling his heart race. He hasn't been this nervous because of sex before.

Francis didn't say anything, only watched with an amused expression. Arthur pressed his lips together in frustration and embarrassment (as if it was the most humiliating thing, even though it was not a big deal at all), and then reached back to place the bottle back onto the nightstand.

The lamp cast marvelous shadows in the room; over their bodies, and on the bed. It was very soothing, and it was dimly lit. Very romantic, although it made Arthur's stomach do all sorts of flops. He inhaled and rubbed his fingers together with the oil, before he adjusted his knees, opening his legs wider.

He closed his eyes and felt his face flush once he reached around. He rubbed his fingers up and down the cleft of his backside, wetting it with oil. He ran his hand lower, and spread the oil over his entrance. It sent shivers through him as he rubbed around, and then he opened his eyes again once he pressed a fingertip past the muscle. Once he let the finger intrude, he instantly added a second one. He stared straight into Francis' alluring eyes as he moved his fingers, his breath coming out heavier.

The noises definitely brought a tint to his cheeks. When he arched his fingers at an angle, he rocked his hips a bit, letting out a gasp and an 'oh'. He saw how Francis licked his lips, and felt his hands wander up his thighs. Arthur paused his fingers once Francis reached around to spread his cheeks apart, as if to give him better access.

He looked at him with an embarrassed expression, seeing in his eyes that he was enjoying this. Arthur swallowed, before he eased another finger in, alongside the other two. He bit on the inside of his cheek, looking now at Francis' chest instead.

Once he moved them in and out a few times, the embarrassing, vulgar noises disrupting the brief silence, he finally pulled them out, and exhaled deeply, arching his head back a bit. When he lowered himself a bit, to sit on Francis' thighs, he realized something was missing.

"Ah..a condom. We need a condom."

He looked at Francis, the Frenchman blinking and then inhaled sharply. "Oh, you're right. How forgetful of me. I'll..be right back.", he said, and patted Arthur's thigh. Arthur hesitated, before he climbed off Francis.

Francis instantly jumped from the bed and strode to his bathroom, Arthur staring at his ass as he did so. The light from the bathroom lightened the bedroom a bit. Arthur looked around. He saw a dresser, open and messy. How strange, Francis didn't seem like the messy type. And then he saw ripped up paper scattered on the floor, and as well as a lighter and an empty cigarette pack a few feet away. And there was a knocked over waste bin and a pile of clothes shoved against the wall. Arthur arched a brow, curious to why his bedroom was a disaster.

Then, the bathroom's light shut off, and Francis emitted from the door, into the dimly lit bedroom. He climbed back onto bed, Arthur looking up at him.

"Do you still have oil on your hand?", the Frenchman asked as he opened the condom wrapper. Arthur nodded, and reached over to stroke Francis' arousal a few times, slicking it up. Arthur raised his eyes to look at Francis' face, seeing his face a bit more flushed. He gave it a few more strong strokes, more than needed.

Francis averted his attention from getting the condom out, to look at him. He smirked, before he plucked the condom out. Arthur blushed, and pulled his hand away. Francis pulled the tip of it out before he slipped it over his arousal. Then he pulled Arthur back into his lap, surprising the Brit.

Arthur fidgeted a bit in his lap, looking at his oiled hands. Once again, he reached down to fluidly stroke Francis a few more times, to wet the condom. He inhaled, and propped up on his shins again, raising his hips a bit. He scooted closer to Francis, until his chest was somewhat level with his chin. He reached back to hold his cock up in his hand, and then sat down a bit, placing his other hand on Francis' shoulder.

He felt Francis place his hands on his hips, rubbing gently. Arthur guided the head of his cock to his entrance, turning his head back for some view, and then slowly eased down on it, his fingers pressing against it as he pushed himself down. Once the head slipped in, easily, with the oil, Arthur slowly lowered his hips, groaning quietly. He turned his head back to look at Francis, his eyes half-lidded. He rubbed at his entrance and the skin of Francis' arousal, until it went in all the way (or as much as the position would allow it).

"Mm.", Arthur moved his hips a little, and then leaned into kiss Francis strongly. He moved his arms around his neck loosely, his forearms resting on his shoulders. He felt Francis kiss back softer, the hands on his thighs moving to hold his waist.

After a moment, Arthur pulled away and smiled at him. Francis returned the smile sincerely, and pressed his lips to his tinted cheek, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's good to be home.", he chuckled, running his hands down over Arthur's ass.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Oh my god, you pervert!", he said in disbelief, before he smacked him lightly on the shoulder. Francis paused, completely confused, and then realized what he meant. He laughed aloud before he shook his head, "No, no, I mean in Paris. Here."

The Brit scrunched his nose, "Are you going to start chatting about Paris during sex?" Francis laughed again, "I _mean_, you being here. With me." Arthur paused for a moment, and then looked down between their bodies. "Uh, yeah. I-It's..new. I'm..I'm going to start moving, now.", he mumbled quietly, and clenched his hands into fists on Francis' shoulders.

When he began to move his hips slightly, not exactly lifting himself, Francis began to kiss him on the neck, and ran his hands everywhere over his skin. Arthur could feel his heart hammer in his chest, and felt anxiety and butterflies in his stomach. He sighed, willing his useless uneasiness away, and then tilted his head at an angle to passionately kiss at Francis' lips.

The next morning, it was pleasant.

Arthur awoke first to a calming sunlight pouring in through the wide window on one of the walls in Francis' bedroom, filling the room with a nice dim light. He could see the trees and the backyard's green grass through it, as well as the somewhat dusky sky. He blinked a few times, and then exhaled deeply, the absolute warmth and comfortable silk and cotton of his comforters coaxing relaxation from him, but the stress knots in his back still lingered.

His head rested over a feather pillow, and every other part of his body was either lost in the sea of plushness or covered by another body. Sighing again, Arthur realized he couldn't move his arm out from under Francis' head without waking him, and that he was losing feeling. He could still move his fingers though.

He groaned, his back finally starting to complain. Not from the sex last night, but his back just _hurt_. Now, he wasn't so comfortable anymore. "Francis..", he whispered. He listened and watched for any sign of a living being, but when no indication came, he frowned. He was too lazy to wake him up – he looked so damn peaceful – and he didn't want to raise his voice or shift. So, he resorted to staring at Francis' face, and his hair that was resting on a part of his arm.

Plus, it was getting really hot, even in the late of autumn, with all these blankets and body heat.

Arthur dealt with his annoyances for about twenty minutes, until he accidentally sneezed from the dust motes in the air (but not on Francis' face, thank god, he turned away at the last second), which resulted in Francis opening his eyes lazily.

"Mm, good mornin'..", Francis mumbled, and then turned over, his back now to Arthur. Arthur instantly retracted his freed arm, and felt it prickle from the blood flowing back into it. "Uh, good morning?", he said, staring at Francis with a raised brow, hearing his breaths become slow again. He received no response, only a soft sigh. Arthur frowned again. "Well, I'm going to go take a shower, now.", he said lightly, and then gave Francis one last look before he slipped out of the wide bed, leaving him behind as he paced across the carpet to his bathroom.

After entering, he looked for the light switch. Once he found it, he noticed it was rounded, so he eyed it for a moment, and then pressed it with his index finger. He blinked a few times, expecting a bright blaring light, like in his old apartment. Except, it was a dimming light, turned on low. He fiddled with the circle-switch for a moment, realizing it could turn, and once he turned it, the light brightened a little.

Once he adjusted it for his liking, he shut the door behind him.

His bathroom was a little bigger than his own back at his old apartment, it had more room to walk around in. It had a laundry hamper, the needed bathroom facilities (toilet, sink, _wide _cabinet mirror, and a shower/jet tub), a little shelf for magazines or books, and a small table that held a stack of folded towels and a few candles. There were also bottles.

Arthur picked one up, and decided it was a body lotion. After glancing at the rest, they were an assortment of cleansing lotions, bath salt, _lubricant_, oil, and these little..bead things. Arthur grit his teeth. How annoying, Francis was a woman in hygiene.

Deciding he didn't care, he turned and faced the shower/tub. It was wide, and had four glass walls. One of them was a sliding door. Easy to see through, obviously. Sighing and shaking his head, Arthur walked to it.

Hoping not to disturb Francis with the noise, he hesitantly opened the glass door and turned on the water, the faucet letting out water, which hit against the porcelain with a fairly disrupting noise. Instantly, he switched it to a shower, the water now hitting the porcelain at a different angle, but a little quieter, and more soothing.

He held his hand under the spray, and adjusted it, before he stepped over the side of the tub, and let the warm water darken his hair, and flatten it. The water traveled down his body in a race, only for the streams to meet at the floor of the tub.

Water fell off the tips of his fingers, and whenever he flexed his fingers, the line of the water would rise with them. He smiled, and then looked to his side, staring at the many bottles cluttered on the little shelf Francis installed.

It took him a few minutes to decide which bottle to use. All of them were in French, and he had to squirt a little out to see if it would create soap suds, to clarify if it was shampoo or conditioner.

And once he decided on which shampoo to choose (out of the multiple bottles), he quickly washed his hair and then got out, dripping water on the tile. He grabbed a towel from the table, and ran it over his torso and limbs, before he ruffled his short hair. He ran it back and forth a few times, and then tied it around his waist.

Seeing as he wasn't wearing clothing originally, he just turned off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft, cautious click. He looked out into the room, seeing that it was slightly dimmer. He walked a bit out into the room to look out the window, seeing the sky a hint darker from the clouds. It relaxed him, reminded him a little of London. Sighing, he glanced at Francis, seeing him spread out over the bed, his head hidden by the thick comforter.

It was strangely cute, and it brought a perk of a smile to his lips. He quietly paced to the side of the bed, and leaned over to move the blanket away from over his head. Once he saw that Francis was resting his head on the side, his mouth slack a bit and his lips wet with a little bit of escaped saliva, his smile widened.

He brushed his locks out of his face, and leaned lower to kiss him on the eyebrow. Francis instantly stirred, and then when Arthur pulled back, he saw he was awake. Francis turned onto his back completely, looking up at Arthur. He reached his arm up, and touched his cheek.

"What time is it?"

Arthur placed his hand over Francis', and turned his head a little to kiss his palm. "I don't know.", he said, and pulled away to look around the room for a clock. Once he realized he didn't have one, he exhaled.

"I've been meaning to buy a damn clock for this room, but I never got to it.", Francis admitted in an annoyed tone, placing the back of his hand over his forehead. Arthur hummed, and then walked to his jeans that were previously discarded onto the floor. Ignoring the shreds of ripped paper and scattered clothing, he crouched down and grabbed it and fished in the front pocket for his phone. Once retrieved, he flipped it open.

He went rigid, and he felt his blood run cold in surprise. He forgot that he gave Alfred his number, and cursed himself to hell when he noticed he had called him multiple times, and left voicemails each time. And, there was a single text.

"It's..uh, it's 10:08.", he said in a shaky voice, and then, in silence, opened the text.

"Oh, well, I should..cook breakfast.", Francis sighed then grunted as he pushed himself from the bed. He paced to the bathroom. "After a shower."

'_Artie, I miss talking 2 u and hearing ur voice. Pls call me back, k?_', the text read, and it made Arthur ask himself why he even considered giving him his damn number.

"I..I used all the hot water."

Francis sighed again, "You should have waited for me! We could have taken a shower together." Arthur felt no need to reply, his brow furrowed in thought and worry. He _definitely_ needed more worry right now. He stood from his crouching position, and cringed when one of the stress knots in his back pulled. "Oh! Arthur, should I give you a back rub, love?", he heard Francis say in a concerned tone.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Aghh so sorry for the long delay. I have excuses, though! 1. I moved to another state 2. I'm slacking off! And, I would love to thank all my readers! Kinda shocked at how many people read this, both on and Deviantart, combined. Kisses you all on the cheek. Lastly, I am almost certain there will be two parts left! \o/

* * *

><p>Within a span of what seemed to be only a few days, four weeks had passed. Twenty-eight days of the sun rising, and falling, for the blessed moon to come out and cast a mysterious glow on everything. Only for it to go back into hiding. This repeated for those four weeks.<p>

Routine set in within the first week. Wake up beside Francis (it was a brand new routine that Arthur grew embarrassed about, but it slowly became an anticipated thing), get up to take a shower (after Francis, because he _had_ to have the warm water and he hated the wet floor of the bathtub after someone else uses it), get dressed and become presentable (Francis took an unnecessary amount of time with that part of the routine), wait for Francis to prepare an ungodly big breakfast, eat said ungodly breakfast while discussing some subject, work on learning the French language (Francis sat down with him for an hour or two and helped him with pronunciation and wording), and so on. Arthur found said routine somewhat relaxing.

Surely, there were many pros to settling in here. For example, the nature. The garden Arthur was waiting to start was something to look forward to, seeing as he had read up on the subject, and purchased the needed tools. Sadly, it wasn't a good season to start (beginning of winter!), so he had to wait. He had some experience, gardening with his mother, so he was excited.

Arthur had thrown out all his junk from his past, including his trashy clothes, and had begun to wear his previously purchased clothing. He never knew sweater vests could look so good on his body type. Francis thought he looked better without them. Or any other article of clothing, that is.

There were many good things about France. But, there were many cons. He was frustrated with not being able to communicate completely with the Parisians, and even with the limited amount of basic French he's learned within the first few weeks, people seemed to be impatient with his attempt at communicating. It was difficult to get around, too.

It began to grow awfully boring. Even with beginning these new hobbies (reading, embroidery, cleaning), those hobbies didn't let the time pass as quickly as Arthur would prefer. The telly hurt his head after a bit, and he eventually had to come back from the walks. He yearned for a job, only for it to pass the time. But, no luck so far. Most jobs required to be fluent in French, or of the hiring places he's been to. So, he was stuck here until he found one. But, how Francis used the car constantly for work tampered the opportunity to go job hunting.

And, Arthur hated to ask Francis for money. He had none himself, but when he needed something for embroidery, or wanted a new book, he had no one else to turn to. Francis was all but delighted to fish it out. From before, Arthur had suspicions Francis was planning to pay for his _tuition_. That would be embarrassing, to him, for someone else to pay for it. It would lower his pride, and it would make it seem like he was a mooch, or that he was incapable of paying it himself. Whenever Francis mentioned the idea, Arthur was quick to change the subject. It always upset him.

Now, on the twenty-ninth day, Arthur was lacking..enthusiasm. But, he kept a mask on, for Francis.

* * *

><p>The sounds of birds singing a melody came in through the wide window, followed by the sunlight. Now, the sound of the birds didn't really bother Arthur. Even if it woke him up, it was pleasant to wake up to.<p>

He opened his eyes groggily. The first thing he saw was Francis' chin, and his pampered stubble. From the night before, his head rested on Francis' shoulder/chest, his boyfriend's arm secure around his side, holding him close. Arthur licked his lips, and shifted, his legs and arms aching from being pressed against him. He sighed, and propped up on an elbow, glancing at the alarm clock on the night stand.

Ten minutes before the alarm went off for nine in the morning. He let out another light sigh, and looked down at Francis. Staring, he admired the way the sunlight cast a nice glow onto his face, and illuminated his golden hair. His eyelids remained close.

Arthur nibbled on the inside of his cheek, not wanting to wake his partner. He gently slid Francis' arm away, and slipped out of his hold, before sliding off the bed, and standing. He was still nude from the previous night. He threw a glance over his shoulder at Francis, smiling lightly, before he turned back and bent down to sit on his calves, and silently gathered their clothing.

Once he placed the discarded articles of clothing into the laundry hamper, he approached his personal dresser, and opened the bottom drawer to fish out a pair of underwear. After stepping into them, he opened his pants drawer. He eyed the different pairs, and chose a pair of loose, black trousers.

When dressed fully (in said black trousers, with a white dress shirt under a gray v-neck sweater), he was sure to be quiet as he walked around the large canopy bed, to Francis' side where the nightstand was. It shown 8:59 a.m. Reaching out, he turned the alarm off.

He averted his eyes to look down at Francis for a moment, and then got down onto his knees, beside the bed. He placed his hands on the soft comforter, and leaned over to press his lips gently to Francis' forehead.

"Francis, wake up. It's nine.", he murmured, reaching out to pat at Francis' cheek. He watched with a soft smile as Francis stirred, shifting a bit before he opened his eyes to look at him. Instantly, he raised his hand from the blanket to rub his eye. "Why can't you wake me up in a more pleasing way? Like, a kiss?", Francis mumbled, and reached a hand out to stroke his fingers down Arthur's cheek.

"I did kiss you. And I'm not pleasant?", Arthur retorted in a quiet tone, raising his hand to place his fingers over Francis' on his cheek. Francis chuckled, "You're right, I'm sorry."

Arthur smiled lightly, and looked down at him with loving eyes. "Don't be. I won't take a shower today, so you can have all the hot water.", he said, before he leaned down to peck him on the lips, feeling Francis return it briefly.

When he pulled back, Francis was looking at him with a small frown. "You're not taking a shower? Why not? I wanted to take one with you..", he said, his tone filled with disappointment. Arthur held back his grin, "I am already dressed, and I took a shower last night beforehand." Francis nodded, "Okay."

"Alright, time to get up, then.", Arthur said lastly, and stood, Francis' hand falling from his face.

* * *

><p>From the couch in the living room, Arthur could hear the sizzling from the kitchen. He could feel his stomach ache from the smell and the teasing sounds, but he wouldn't pester Francis about hurrying. Originally, he would..but that's the thing, now, everything was off. They barely bicker anymore. Although, it's good to be nice to the ones you love, but it's just odd to Arthur. He thought it would be even a bit tense, but it's perfectly..cliche and domestic. Sighing, he heard the clink of metal and glass.<p>

He dog-eared the page he was on, and snapped his book shut, before placing it to his side on the couch. After standing, he smoothed his sweater out and paced into the kitchen, rounding the corner to see Francis taking the second omelette from the pan. Arthur observed the two fruit parfaits, and two plates of separate omelettes, with a bit of hash browns and toasts.

"I think you've cooked enough.", he commented, walking up to the counter. Francis smiled at him, "This is all that I'm planning to prepare. Help me set the table, will you?" Arthur nodded.

Soft clinks of the glass repeated as Arthur situated the plates on the dining table, beside each other. He also filled two glasses with milk, and set those beside the plates. Once Francis added the silverware, he smiled at Arthur as he pulled his seat out, and sat down, Arthur doing the same to his side.

They weren't ones to make prayers, but Francis was sure to thank God for the meal. "But God didn't prepare this for us; you did.", was what Arthur said each time, both teasing and pointing out. Francis brushed it off.

Nonetheless, as always for the past twenty-eight days, Arthur instantly reached for his specially made fruit parfait firstly, lifting his spoon from the napkin. The first spoon-full he placed in his mouth sent a delicious spark of cream and the sweet taste of strawberry over his tongue. He hummed in delight.

Throughout their breakfast, they chatted briefly. Arthur didn't know what to say, and Francis was being strangely quiet today. Plus, Arthur kept receiving annoying texts from Alfred. He made sure to glance at them from his side, hoping Francis wouldn't ask who it was.

Arthur helped gather the dishes, silently. He knew that he had to scrape off the excess food into the garbage bin, and then place the dishes in the dishwasher, from Francis' previous instructions. And once that was done, he retired to the living room's couch.

While Arthur was reclining back into the couch's cushions – Francis was busy wiping the dining table and kitchen counters – he felt another vibration from his phone. Sighing, he took it out again, and sat up. After opening it, he read the text, which was short. "_So, I heard u left ur band? Why?_"

"_Why do you insist on texting me all the time? I just lost the interest for it._", he replied with, and snapped his phone shut again, just as Francis walked up, rolling the sleeves of his shirt down. "Would you like to work on your French more?", Francis asked lightly with a small smile, Arthur raising his eyes to him.

Arthur frowned lightly, "Uh, can we do it later, maybe? I feel like going out." Francis paused briefly, and then nodded, "Of course." After a moment of silence, Francis spoke again. "May I accompany you?"

"Of course."

The cushion of the couch strained as Arthur pushed himself up, just as he felt another vibration in his hand. He grit his teeth, and ignored it as he shuffled past Francis to the coat closet, and opened it to grab his shoes.

Once he slipped them on, he glanced back at Francis, and then turned to yank open the front door, before he strode out, his face scrunched up bitterly. He could hear him follow behind, gently shutting the door behind.

The rocks shifted and halted under Arthur's feet when he stood in front of the Victorian house, his arms now tightly crossed, with his phone clenched in his hand. He glared out at the trees, not sure what he wanted to do. He didn't want to go out into town, though.

Francis walked up and silently stood beside him, his hands behind his back, gazing up at the magnificent trees as well. Arthur exhaled in a 'huff'. "Let's just walk around, then.", he offered in an impatient tone, and continued in the direction of the dirt path, that lead to Paris. The path itself went on for awhile.

The sounds of their footsteps were the only audible thing, save for the constant sigh of Arthur. It smelled like the scent of rain, coming from the trees. It must have drizzled last night. It soothed Arthur's attitude a little, his scowl now formed into an unreadable expression. Francis was silent by his side, his arms lightly crossed. Arthur glanced at him, noticing how his eyes were distant, and his lips were curved downwards. It enchanted Arthur for a moment – it wasn't common to see a look of frustration on Francis' face. What was wrong?

"Does it snow here?", Arthur asked quietly, breaking the long silence. He could see the attention return to Francis' alluring eyes, and his face snap to "I am interested". Francis smiled, "Yes, but not often." Arthur nodded. "I hope to see a least a little snowfall.", Arthur murmured, looking down at the dirt around his feet. Francis hummed.

"It's beautiful.", he began, and Arthur raised his eyes, noticing him motion out towards the rows of trees, "And the white gowns the nature in a breath-taking way." Arthur glanced at him again, and pressed his lips together. He didn't know what to say to that.

Then, the silence reclaimed it's place, and minutes went by. Eventually, Arthur opened his phone, and read the text as he continued to walk. He hoped Francis wouldn't look.

"_Remember when u first started guitar in highschool? U were brilliant. I miss that._", was the response he received. Arthur sighed. "_Of course I remember. I played for the bloody prom._", he typed with haste, and sent it before snapping his phone shut again. He hesitantly flickered his eyes to Francis, and grimaced, seeing him looking.

"Stop lookin' over my shoulder!", he snapped, feeling anxiety build in his stomach, making him uneasy. It's not like he was cheating on him – he was just allowing Alfred to flirt with him all the time. Which wasn't particularly bad. He didn't return the flirting.

Francis raised his eyes to his, and shrugged. "I didn't read anything." Arthur rolled his eyes, and glared at the dirt. Suddenly, he wanted to go back, and stopped in his tracks. Francis went a few steps ahead, before he turned back to look at him.

"Let's go back, I feel sick."

"So, how are you liking it here so far?", Francis had asked after they returned, and now were sitting on the couch together, Arthur staring at the TV, which remained untouched. Francis' arm was resting over the back of the couch, and he was turned inwards to face his boyfriend.

Arthur grit his teeth absentmindedly, "It's..new."

"That's what you've been saying for the past four weeks, _amour_."

"Well, I don't know what to think of it, yet!", he growled, looking away from Francis' confused expression. He felt a soft hand on his thigh. When a pair of lips pressed to his cheek lovingly, and then to his temple, following down his jawline, he grew rigid.

"What's wrong, Arthur? Why are you so tense today?", Francis whispered, Arthur swallowing heavily. The hand on his thigh had a gentle hold. Arthur sighed, and felt guilty, before he flickered his eyes to the Frenchman's. "I'm sorry. It's nothing.", he mumbled, and gently brushed his hands off him, and stood. His mouth had gone dry, so he was thirsty.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair as he paced to the kitchen, eyes raising to the cabinets. He knew the glasses were here somewhere. He's been here for weeks, and he still didn't know where everything was in the kitchen. The doors of the cabinets creaked as he searched through them, until he finally spotted the glasses, which were the closest to the outside of the kitchen. Frowning, he snatched one and turned to the sink.

Somewhere in the living room, he heard footsteps and then shortly the creak of stairs. Arthur became sour again, and made a face, as he held the glass under the faucet, and turned on the cold water. When he took the first drink, he almost spilled it when he felt an angry vibration in his pocket. Growling, he roughly placed the water down on the counter – spilling some of it in the process – before shoving his hand in his pocket and withdrawing his phone. Another text from Alfred, of course.

Without bothering to open it, he basically slammed his phone on the island counter and turned back to grab his water. Ignoring his unanswered text, he turned and rested against the far counter, slitting his eyes at the floor. He took a few more sips. Then, his temper got the best of him – _Damn Alfred! _- so he swerved on his feet and turned the glass over the sink, spilling the water out, some of it splashing up and getting him on the sleeve. Fuming, he left the cup and stormed to the front door again. Not bothering to put on his shoes, he yanked it open and strode out before slamming it behind him, as expected.

He instantly turned and walked down the patio to sit on the porch swing, the chains holding it up jingling from the harsh movement. He ran his hands over his face and then through his hair. Why couldn't Alfred just leave him alone? He was screwing things up! Francis was getting suspicious.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur dropped his hands and sat back against the cushion of the swing.

Finally, he gazed out at the view. Surprisingly, it had grown considerably darker. Clouds littered the sky, blocking the sun from view. Now, it was a bit colder than it had been, but not an uncomfortable cold. It was neutral, and Arthur liked how it felt. The lack of the visible sun shed a darker light over the trees and plants, and it made them seem a bit more alluring, in a way.

Arthur stared blankly out at the scenery, and then let out a deep sigh. This wasn't really how he imagined it. He didn't really know what he was expecting.

But before his thoughts could continue, he heard the door open to his side. He glanced over, seeing Francis walk out with a stern look on his face. The floorboards creaked of the patio as he walked around the swing, to stand in front of Arthur. Arthur raised his eyes to him, and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What-"

"Arthur, what's this?", Francis cut him off, and held up his phone. Arthur stared in shock, not sure what he meant. After a moment of hesitation and confusion, he cleared his throat and shifted on the swing. "That's my phone."

"Filled with flirtatious texts from, what I'm assuming, your ex?", Francis added, and crossed his arms. Arthur opened his mouth, but he lost his voice from the shock, and then the realization that_ he_ _left his phone in the kitchen_. He closed his mouth again, and stared up at Francis. Why does it matter? It's not like he flirted back.

That's what he wanted to say, but he had to swallow down the lump in his throat first. But before he could speak it, Francis continued.

"Alfred? Isn't that the one that came to visit you before we left? Your _friend_. You lied to me, didn't you? What exactly did you do with him when you left me?"

Arthur grit his teeth, and glared at him. "It's not like that, at all.", he hissed. Francis' face went blank for a moment, and he didn't speak. "_He _flirts with _me_. You've seen my replies, right?", Arthur continued, as he stood.

"And, yes, he is my ex, and I am sorry for lying to you. All we did was talk, okay? How can you doubt me so easily?", Arthur's voice softened a bit, and his clenched hands relaxed. He scrutinized Francis' expression for a moment. "He lives in America, anyways. He's across the bloody world."

After a moment, Francis let out a rushed exhale. Arthur stared into his eyes, and bit the inside of his cheek. Francis nodded silently, and held out the phone. Arthur took it from him, and frowned. "I apologize.", Francis murmured, before he walked past him into the house, leaving the door open. Arthur shoved his phone into his pocket, and sat back down on the swing, feeling an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. For a long time, he just admired the beautiful view France had to offer. Or, from what he could see among the expanse of trees.

* * *

><p>Arthur sat out there for at least an hour or two (smoking about four cigarettes, seeing as he was under stress), until Francis came out with a blank expression, announcing it was time for dinner. Silently, Arthur stood from the swing, and then paced past Francis into the house, before hearing Francis shut the door behind them.<p>

When they were both seated at the dining table, with it already set (it was usually Arthur's job to set it), the atmosphere was tense. Arthur felt guilty and nervous, and always glanced at Francis, who was filling their glasses with milk. For the first time since Arthur moved here, he didn't comment when Francis thanked God for the meal.

It was silent for a while, save for the clinking of silverware, and Arthur shifting in his seat. After a while, he grew uncomfortable. He hated the stressful silence.

Pushing his spaghetti around, Arthur tried to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry.", he murmured, placing his fork down. When Francis raised his eyes to him, Arthur bit his lip. "For being selfish. I hate taking money from you, and eating the food you've paid for and prepared. I'm living here, without giving anything back in return."

A little surprised, Francis put his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before shaking his head. "Arthur, it's okay.", he began, sincerely, placing his hand over Arthur's on the table. Withdrawing his hand, Arthur frowned, "No, I'm not okay with it. I don't want to take, and take, I want to _give_, but I have nothing to give."

Pressing his lips together, Francis pulled his hand back and exhaled deeply, "No, that's not true. You are a gift, to me. It's a privilege to have you here with me." Arthur felt no relief or realization from what he said, and it only frustrated him further, so he remained silent in agitation and picked his fork back up.

"Nevermind.", he mumbled. Francis furrowed his brow, and felt frustrated, too.

The stressful atmosphere grew worse, so Arthur basically shoveled his food down and downed his milk before excusing himself. He took his dishes into the kitchen and placed them in the sink. He started the water, and poured some dish soap onto a sponge.

Taking the time to wash his plate and silverware, he thought about an alternative to his situation. Finding a part time job wouldn't be the ideal plan, and with the luck he's had, he wasn't sure how long it'll take to find a hiring one. Just living here and doing nothing is not how he planned to live for the rest of his life. If Francis wanted to pamper him, then fine. That's how he wanted it, but Arthur thought otherwise. He wasn't going to be a burden, no matter what.

So when he dried his plate and put it away in the cupboard, he felt determined to figure this out. When he walked back into the dining room, he noticed Francis was missing, but his dishes remained on the table. Confused, Arthur glanced around into the living room. When he still couldn't find him, he turned towards the staircase after turning off the light.

Once he made it to the hallway, he saw the light in the library was on. He furrowed his brow as he paced towards it. Upon entering, he noticed Francis was sitting on the small couch, with the lamp on, and a novel opened in his hands.

"What are you doing?", Arthur asked, standing at the doorway. Raising his eyes, Francis smiled, "Reading. I thought you could do the dishes. If you're so concerned with giving something in return, how about you do the cleaning?" Arthur's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Francis was acting as if they hadn't just had an argument. Fine, he'll play along with it.

"Okay, sure. But you do the laundry. I don't want to mess up your precious wardrobe.", he said with a sour tone, slitting his eyes at the other. Francis only shrugged, "_D'accord._" Arthur sucked in a breath, and looked at him for a moment more, before he turned on his heels and strode quickly to the staircase.

When he dealt with Francis' dishes, his temper now gone, he felt tired as he ascended the stairs once more. He itched to have a cigarette.

Worrying at his lip, he returned to the library to see Francis still at the couch, but he had curled his legs in. It was kind of cute, and it made him smile lightly. Francis glanced up at him, and then returned it.

"I think I'm going to read with you.", Arthur announced, before he walked in between the two book-filled shelves, and then turned to his personal section. He heard a hum from the other as he glanced over the spines of the books. Once he picked out one of his favorites (The BFG by Ronald Dahl), he returned to Francis, and sat next to him on the couch. He leaned against the arm rest as he crossed his legs.

"What did you choose?", Francis asked, shifting to lean towards Arthur. Arthur turned the cover to him, only for the Frenchman to snicker. "Oh, a classic.", he said with teasing sarcasm, before he grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes, "Shut it. I like it, so I'm reading it."

After Francis laughed again, it went silent for a while, save for the turning of pages. Arthur finished the book within forty minutes.

So, he stood and held the book in his hand as he asked, "Would you like to watch a movie with me?" To which Francis replied, "As long as we get to cuddle."

As of now, they had moved to the living room, with the flat screen TV before them. They both were crouched over the stack of movies Francis had. Francis wasn't really one to watch movies by himself, but he had a nice, small selection.

"A lot of them are in French, but when I learned English, I found interest in some American movies. So, if you find one of interest, pick it out.", Francis said, flickering his eyes to Arthur. Arthur shuffled closer in his crouching position, and reached out to lift the first DVD case.

It was in French, so he just discarded it in a separate pile. He did that with all the French movies, until he came to recognizable words. There were various titles. There was _Amadeus_, _Mystery Men_, _The Notebook _(Arthur laughed internally when he saw this one), and others. It was all a wide variety of genres, but the one that caught Arthur's eye was _Inglorious Basterds_. He loved war movies.

"This one looks cool.", he commented, turning it over to read the back. Francis hummed, "It's a bit violent, but considering you, you would like it." Arthur threw a short scowl at him, before he opened the case and popped the CD out.

When Arthur put the CD in the movie player, they got comfortable. With Francis sitting on the floor, over pillows, and Arthur on the flower-patterned couch with his legs hugging Francis' sides.

Once they started the movie, and the first scene began, Arthur's hands were already in Francis' hair, his fingers threading lovingly through the locks.

* * *

><p>Sadly, Francis never received his cuddling. Arthur was entirely enveloped with the movie, that he paid no mind to the other (only continuing to mess with his hair throughout the movie), that lead to Francis becoming a bit annoyed.<p>

Now frustrated, Francis stood from the floor when the credits rolled, Arthur's hands falling from his hair. He walked to the kitchen, leaving Arthur sitting in the living room. Arthur had gotten up to turn off the DVD player and the TV, before he followed Francis.

"Thank you for watching the movie with me, I liked it.", Arthur said as he leaned against the counter, watching Francis as he got a glass of water. "Mh.", Francis made a noise before he took a drink, slitting his eyes through the window above the sink.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, Arthur realized it was getting late. Returning his eyes to Francis, he cleared his throat, "I think I'm going to smoke and then go to bed." After he poured the rest of the water down the sink, Francis reached out to take a dry rag and wipe the inside, "Go ahead."

Arthur furrowed his brow, before he sighed and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

After he had grabbed his pack of Marlboro's from his jeans upstairs, Arthur returned to the porch swing outside. But it was cold, so he planned on smoking quickly.

When he pulled out one of the cigarettes, he heard the door open and footsteps come out. Francis, as expected, walked up and sat beside him on the swing, with his own cigarette between his fingers. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I was hoping to smoke with you.", he said, before smiling softly at Arthur. Arthur shrugged lightly, "I haven't had a smoking partner in a while, so it's fine." He cracked a smile at that, and Francis' own small grin grew in amusement.

After lighting up, they sat back against the swing, and stared up at the darkening sky. Arthur felt a rush of relief when he first inhaled, the nicotine soothing his stress of the day. He watched the smoke as he blew it out, and when he glanced at Francis, he grew enthralled with how he exhaled the smoke through his nose, like a dragon.

"That always hurts, when I try to let it out through my nose.", he commented, shifting in his seat to turn towards the other. With his arm draped over the back of the swing, Francis glanced at him and then flicked the ash off his cigarette onto the porch. "Oh, I'm just used to it that way. My friend taught me how to do it, and it just kind of stuck." Arthur smiled, "It suits you."

"Have you told me that before?", Francis asked randomly, and then furrowed his brow, "I think you have." Arthur blinked and then shrugged, "Maybe, I find it attractive, and you being attractive, it fits." Francis laughed at that, and leaned over to kiss him on the head.

Blushing a little, Arthur took another inhale of his cigarette.

After a moment of silence, Arthur remembered he was going to ask something. "Oh, right. Were you upset earlier?", he spoke, mentioning how Francis was being neglectful before, at the sink. Francis paused, and then hummed, "I've gotten over it, doesn't matter." Arthur frowned, "What? Tell me."

After laughing lightly, Francis shook his head. "I was just discouraged you ignored me throughout the movie." Arthur blinked, and then furrowed his brow, "No, I was talking to you, wasn't I?"

"I mean like, cuddling. Like I wanted."

Arthur's eyebrows raised, and then he was like, "Oh!" Francis laughed again and then shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed he had to mention it again, "Forget it."

"No, it's okay. You don't have to ask to..uh, _cuddle_. I'm just not used to doing that sort of thing, so it slipped my mind.", Arthur said, licking his lips. Francis raised the hand that was holding his cigarette to scratch his eyebrow, "I didn't want to bother you."

Arthur shook his head, "It's fine. It's not like we can't do it now." He smiled lightly and looked at Francis, "Let me kiss you." Francis glanced at him, and then shifted to face him with his torso, a small sly smile spreading over his lips. "I will allow it.", he said jokingly, and then pulled his arm around Arthur.

"That's good.", Arthur murmured, his smile softening with his eyes sliding close. He leaned forward to lightly press his lips to Francis'. He felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze lightly, and soon enough Francis was returning the kiss.

As usual, they grew distracted and continued kissing for a minute or two or three or four, until Francis hissed and pulled back. "Sorry, my cigarette burned my fingers.", he said, before standing to hurriedly go inside to put his lit bud out. Arthur's own cigarette was almost close to burning his fingers, so he gave one short inhale before flicking it onto the floor of the porch. Francis will forgive him.

After he put it out with his foot, he bent down to grab the crushed bud and walked into the house to throw it away in the trash bin in the kitchen. Francis was washing his hands.

"I'm going to watch TV and then go to sleep.", Francis announced as he shook his hands out before wiping them on the cloth resting on the counter. Arthur hummed, "I'll join you in a bit." Francis nodded, and then smiled at him, before he walked out and into the living room.

Arthur watched him turn on the TV, but after that, he walked back out to the swing.

Feeling content, he took his seat again, and pushed on the porch, to get the swing moving. He lifted his legs to cross them, and let the swing rock him back and forth. As before, he gazed out at the cold, dark sky. He sincerely hoped it would snow soon.

* * *

><p>When time passed, Arthur grew cold. Francis must have taken the quilt that was previously draped over the back of the swing. Goose bumps had developed over his arms the longer he sat out there. It definitely was getting colder, due to the winter. Now, he yearned for heat.<p>

Might as well go in.

The wood of the porch creaked below his feet as he walked silently into the open doorway. He stared at the darkness as he shut the door. When he walked over to turn the lamp on beside the couch, he noticed the TV was left on, on mute. Francis must have left it on again. He always did that – forgetting things. Leaving things around the house, being unorganized. It didn't really suit him, but Arthur didn't mind picking up after him. It sort of became routine, too.

Anyways, Arthur stared at the TV as he approached it. The animated colors lessened to black when he switched it off. He noticed it was eerily quiet. Dropping his arm to his side, he averted his eyes to the staircase. Francis must be in bed.

Feeling exhausted, Arthur had begun to ascend the stairs, staring down at his feet as he did so. When he looked up into the small hallway, he noticed their bedroom door was open, and the light was on. Upon noticing Francis was still awake, Arthur hurried to their door. When he walked into their room, he glanced towards their canopy bed to see Francis laying fully clothed over the covers, on his side.

Suddenly worried, Arthur turned off the light and walked to the bed, staring at Francis' unmoving figure. He inhaled deeply, before he got on the bed and laid down, on his side, to scoot up to Francis. Without a word, he rested his arm around Francis' torso, and reached out to grab his hand that was resting on the comforter limply.

"Francis?", he whispered, squeezing his hand lightly.

A moment passed of silence, before he felt Francis stir and the hand under his move to thread their fingers together. "My mother passed away, they said. On the phone.", Arthur heard him mumble. Silence followed, but Arthur pulled him closer, and kissed him on the back of the head.

"You don't have to comfort me, Arthur.", Francis said in a blank tone, before sighing. Arthur ignored him, and held him close. "She didn't want us to be in love.", he said quietly. Arthur remained silent, staring at the back of his head, his blonde locks resting on the pillow. But then Francis slipped out of his arms, and sat up.

When he glanced down at Arthur in the darkness, he frowned. "Obviously, I could not continue our family line if I were to be with you." Arthur furrowed his brow, and propped up on his elbow. "That's not for her to decide." Francis' lips perked into a smile, "_Non_, but she insisted nonetheless. It's understandable." His smile softened to a frown, "But I continued to see you, because, even back then, I was in love with you. And why would I obey to my mother's wish over love?"

Arthur licked his lips and shook his head a little, "Why are you telling me this _now_?" Francis shrugged, "I felt like I should have told you." Nodding, Arthur pursed his lips, and asked, "What was her name?"

"Marianne."

Silence followed, for minutes, until Arthur fell back onto the pillow, and Francis did the same. When Arthur slid closer, and Francis opened his arms, Arthur pressed into him, and draped an arm over his side.

Their hands met on the bed, Arthur threading his fingers through Francis'.

In the darkness, Arthur raised his eyes to look at Francis. He saw how his eyes were already closed, maybe in content, or just wanting the day to end. Arthur smiled lightly, and propped up on his elbow to kiss him on the lips gently, before the cheek. Sliding back down into a laying position, Arthur saw him look at him with a small smile.

He pressed a soft peck to Arthur's lips, and smiled at him lightly, before closing his eyes and letting the sound of their breathing ease his mind.

Silence lingered for while, and Arthur watched Francis attempt to fall into slumber, noticing how his chest lifted and fell lightly, after each intake of breath. It was mesmerizing. His golden locks rested on the pillow, portraying him beautifully. It was really breath-taking, the moment he was experiencing. He never was one for capturing the moment and enjoying it, but now he realized how Francis had taught him to notice the little things, and surprisingly, those little things were big things after all.

Arthur smiled to himself, and shifted to get closer to Francis, until his scent was all he could breathe.

For some reason, even after an hour had passed, he never felt the urge to sleep. The sounds of rain hitting against the ceiling and windows had begun, reminding him about England. His thoughts had wandered back to his worries, so he decided it was time to attempt to sleep. Within five minutes, thanks to the comforting presence of Francis and his warmth, he fell into a deep sleep, still holding his love close to him.

* * *

><p>Three days later, Arthur realized that the death of Francis' mother didn't really affect him. He was still teasing and loving and happy, which made Arthur think. It took him at least eleven years, himself, to get over his mother's death, but Francis was his old self in the span of seventy-two hours. Maybe he didn't have a strong as a bond as he did to his mother.<p>

"Arthur, isn't it beautiful?"

Looking up from his feet to Francis, he squinted through his unnecessary sunglasses (seeing as it's the beginning winter, in the cold morning) at him, "What is?"

"I don't mean to get cliché suddenly, but I think living is.", Francis smiled at the cloudy sky. Humming, Arthur shrugged. "I'm kind of cold right now, but other than that.." A laugh came from the other, "_Non_, I mean _living_. Experiencing, learning, loving. Paying attention to your surroundings, the _moment _you're living. The details. Y'know?" Arthur paused, and glanced at the wet (from the morning dew) grass around the blanket they were sitting on, before raising a brow.

"You're full of shit, I think.", he replied with, raising his eyes back to him with a cheeky smirk. Francis glanced at him, and grinned, revealing his teeth, before he laughed and pulled Arthur into a big embrace, taking him off-guard a bit. "I think so, too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN #2**: So, I have a few things I wanna say. Firstly, for those who are only reading this for the smut, there will be some next part. Secondly, I feel like mentioning that my favorite part is 11! Anyways, regarding the whole exhaling out the nose thing, I included my own personal opinions/experiences. I do think exhaling the smoke out the nose is sexy/attractive, and my friend had taught me how to do it, but when I tried to, it hurt my nostrils, throat, and lungs. So I don't think it's worth it, lol. Lastly, during the movie part, I mentioned a few of my favorite movies (besides the Notebook, I have yet to watch that), and if you recognized them, kudos! \o/ For those who haven't, I recommend them! Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur was in love.

He would say he's never felt this way before, but that's not entirely true. More often than not, he was too distracted to _notice _he was in love.

To notice the way Francis' hands worked. Agile and precise on the cutting board, but then again clumsy, resulting in cuts and nicks going down his fingers. Slender and gentle when turning a page within a book. Light and carefree when embracing. Strong and thorough when massaging.

And his dark, alluring blue eyes as well. When he was happy, Arthur could see the brightness in them, as if they were smiling (and the way they crinkled at the end pronounced the emotion). And when Francis was in one of his lovey-dovey moods, he would look at Arthur with gentle, loving eyes. A soft look in them. When serious, they had a stern look.

Anyways, Arthur was totally and utterly mesmerized. Even his goddamn smug and boastful side was charming. Arthur hated it and loved it at the same time.

"Why are you so perfect?"

With a confused look, Francis flickered his eyes up to Arthur, from the magazine he was reading. His long legs were crossed (he was wearing a pair of black trousers), with his foot jiggling. But when Arthur threw that question at him, it ceased it's movement.

"_Quoi_?", he questioned him, arching a brow with a perk of a smile. Arthur furrowed his brow even farther, "It should be easy for me to find flaws, but it's kind of difficult right now." Francis then closed his magazine with a strange elegance - it frustrated Arthur.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Arthur sighed and shook his head, sliding closer to him, with his book resting by his side. "..No. But I wonder why you are _flawless_, and I'm..me. Not that I'm jealous or anything.", he admitted, but then caught himself. Francis remained silent for a moment, just gazing at Arthur with a slight furrow of his brow.

After he cleared his throat, Francis smiled at him lightly. "I am far from perfect, I'm afraid. As are you. Everyone is. _But_, it's how other people see us. When someone sees the other with perfection, then they are perfect. In that person's eyes. The one being considered 'perfect' may think the opposite, but that is understandable. It's how we see each other, Arthur. And from my point of view, I wouldn't prefer you any other way."

Arthur smiled lightly, and felt a clench in his heart. When he leaned forward to press his lips to Francis' in a loving, brief kiss, the Frenchman hummed and placed his hand gently on Arthur's thigh.

"You're so sappy, it's both annoying and seductive.", Arthur said when he pulled away, his lips curled into a smirk. Francis laughed, and leaned over to kiss him on the side of the head.

Even so, Arthur was uneasy.

* * *

><p><strong>Two days later, 10:00 a.m. on a Friday<strong>

Everyday, Arthur woke before his partner. Everyday, at seven in the morning. And then at around eleven or twelve, Francis clambers around upstairs – taking a long shower, fussing over the outfit of the day – before cumbersomely descending the staircase to make breakfast.

But for work on Friday, Francis had an early shift, and had to get up an hour or two early. Well, early for him.

Arthur was sitting at the dining table – aimlessly browsing through one of his books on flowers – when Francis came down to prepare breakfast. Upon seeing the redness in Francis' eyes, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. "You look lovely this morning. Sleep well?"

Grunting at him as he walked into the kitchen, Francis rolled his shoulders. "It was cold under the covers when I woke up. You know what it was missing? A body next to me. Why don't you sleep in with me?", he grumbled, and then hissed at the cold kitchen floor on his bare feet. Arthur shrugged to himself, "I 'unno, I just seem to have better days when I get up early. Maybe it's because I don't have to deal with you for a few hours."

When Francis threw him a glare, Arthur laughed, "I'm kidding."

Silence lingered as Francis pulled out a pan and placed it on the stove. Arthur smiled, looking at him over his shoulder. His hair was messy, and he was only wearing a robe. It was kind of cute, how Francis wasn't a morning person. It was a bit off for a character like him, but it brought some ease to Arthur's mind knowing he had the upper hand regarding the morning hours.

"What do you want, this morning?", Francis asked over his shoulder, opening the refrigerator. Arthur swept his thoughts away and considered the question, averting his eyes to the floor. After a moment, he spoke, "Just something normal, easy to cook. Seeing as you", he paused to glance at the grandfather clock in the living room, "Don't have too much time. Maybe just eggs and toast."

Francis hummed and plucked the eggs from the door of the fridge. "I'll add some fruit, too. You like bananas and apples, right?", he asked as he reached for the bread on the built in shelf above the counter.

"Yeah."

"We have grapes too, so I'll add those.", Francis continued, while he rummaged in fruit drawer to withdraw the specific fruits. "Mh.", Arthur made a noise as he shut his book. He shifted in his seat to face the other, resting his arm on the back of the dining chair.

"Is your work uniform ready?", he asked, knowing Francis was forgetful. And when Francis froze with an apple in his hand, he smiled lightly. "Ah..no, it's in the wash.", Francis said, and then sheepishly smiled at Arthur. Standing from the chair, Arthur began towards the door to the small laundry room, "I'll switch it to the dryer for you."

"_Merci!_", he heard Francis call.

Five minutes later, he returned to find Francis at the stove, paying attention to the sunny-side up eggs. The smell made Arthur's stomach complain. Glancing at the table, he noticed it was already set. After a moment of pause, he turned to walk into the kitchen.

Standing beside Francis, he watched him press the egg gently into the pan. Arthur snaked his arm around Francis' waist and flickered his eyes to his face. He noticed his eyes were distant, but then they focused on him, and a smile spread over his lips.

"Eggs should be done soon..", he murmured, glancing back at them in the pan. Arthur stared at him a moment more, and then nodded.

"Doesn't it get tiring to cook all day?", Arthur asked curiously, flickering his eyes to the pan as Francis sprinkled fresh rosemary onto the eggs. Francis chuckled lightly and eyed Arthur with a smile on his lips.

"No. I enjoy cooking for people. Even if it's hard to get a response out of you – I relish in the responses I receive from the customers. I've lost count of how many people 'sent compliments to the chef'.", he said and then swished his spatula around absentmindedly to add emphasis. Arthur arched a brow. Then he scoffed, "No need to get smug, frog." Francis laughed aloud, and then moved the pan to a separate burner (the eggs were done). After setting the spatula down, Francis turned to face Arthur.

"Ah, well, you have nothing to be _smug _about, so you lack smugness, so I am..simply filling in your lack of smugness.", he went on, and then grinned at Arthur teasingly. Staring at him with furrowed brows, Arthur remained silent. Then he laughed dryly before swatting him on the arm. "You're so..", he began, and then paused to find the right word.

"Brilliant? Thoughtful?", Francis offered, placing his hands on his hips in a teasing manner. Arthur scowled, "Self-righteous!" Francis only continued to grin his stupid teasing smile.

"Don't let the bloody toast burn!", Arthur growled, fed up, while he thrust his hand at the toaster that was innocently watching the ordeal from the counter. Francis hummed, and then leaned forward to press a strong, brief kiss to Arthur's unsuspecting cheek, making the Brit jump.

"Only you could burn toast, _cher_.", Francis murmured, with a sly smirk spreading over his lips, before he turned to walk to the toaster. Arthur reached up to rub at his cheek, still feeling the itchiness from Francis' stubble. "I thought you weren't a morning person, but you're annoying as ever.", he grumbled.

"Pestering you is awakening, I'm afraid.", he heard Francis say as he turned to walk back to the dining table.

* * *

><p>Arthur wasn't so sure about Francis' taste in music. It varied from rock to pop. But now he was listening to <em>Kylie Minogue <em>as he thrust the vacuum cleaner over the carpet of their living room, swaying his hips as the vocalist's charming voice sang throughout the interior of the house. Arthur watched with amusement from the couch, his legs crossed. He wasn't sure what to think of this Kylie singer, but nonetheless his foot was jiggling along with the beat. With Francis busy cleaning, Arthur was fabricating a new piece of embroidery.

"-with me!", Arthur heard through the noise of the music, his foot coming to a halt. He raised his eyes to see Francis standing before him, panting lightly from his vigorous vacuuming efforts. "What?", Arthur asked over the loud voice of Kylie's.

"Dance with me, Arthur! Isn't this music catchy?", Francis said with cheerfulness, his lips in a wide, teeth-revealing grin. Arthur raised a brow at him, and paused his work on the embroidery. "I dissent with that opinion.", he replied, kind-of lying. Francis laughed, condoning his response, before reaching over to grab his hand and yank him up from the couch.

Arthur called out in surprise, and dropped his embroidery onto the floor. When Francis took hold of his other hand and began bounding around the living room, Arthur felt his face flush in embarrassment. Francis was acting like a child, spinning in messy circles with their hands linked. The music was urging this dilemma, apparently, but Arthur understood. It _was _catchy.

When he let out a loud laugh, Francis' face lit up even more. Arthur began to spin with him, and then pulled Francis in the opposite direction, just before he hit the idle vacuum. Laughing, Arthur grinned at the other. But the song ended abruptly, taking Arthur off-guard, resulting in Francis' legs getting tangled in his, and they both tumbled down onto the floor.

A few brief moments of silence lingered, before the next song began to play. Francis was laughing, and Arthur felt a headache coming on. He was propping up onto his hands, when he noticed Francis' hair was a mess. Arthur wondered if this was what happiness was.

* * *

><p><strong>Five days later; 10:42 A.M. on a Sunday<strong>

Arthur had the privilege to sleep in. Last night, he stayed up until one in the morning with Francis – watching movies and goofing around. But when they retired to their bed, he was exhausted. Although, it was normal for Francis to wake up this late.

As the norms, Arthur awoke first. His eyes drowsily sliding open, the sunlight attacking his pupils instantly. He mumbled with discomfort, and turned onto his side, only to press against his partner. He remained staring at the hairy skin of Francis' chest, before he yawned. Shifting in his laying position, he realized limbs were askew, sticking randomly out of the comforter with the blanket falling off the bed. Only a sliver of the comforter was covering Francis.

Sighing, Arthur sat up, resulting in the blanket to fall off the bed completely. Glancing over at Francis, he smiled lightly. He was quick to acquire the comforter again, and secure it around Francis' body. It stirred the Frenchman's dream state, his eyelids fluttering open. Arthur's lips was fixed in a soft smile, his eyes gazing down at him, admiring the way his hair spilled over the pillow.

Instantly letting out a deep yawn, Francis stretched, flexing his arms, and then let them fall back onto the bed as his eyes met the other's. A lazy smile overtook his drowsy frown. "Morning, dear..", he mumbled, raising a hand to brush his fingertips over Arthur's cheek. Arthur caught his hand before it could fall back down.

Francis watched, mesmerized, as Arthur kept their eyes locked, whilst pressing tender pecks to the back of Francis' hand. Lowering their hands to simply hold Francis' over the covers, Arthur smiled. "You always enchant me in the morning, it's ridiculous.", he murmured, blushing lightly. Francis paused, looking up at him with curious eyes, before a smile broke over his lips.

"Well, I'm flattered.", he said, his cheeks flushing a little as well. Arthur made a few throaty laughs and then leaned down, to press his lips passionately against Francis'. He felt the slender fingers of Francis' hand slide over the back of his neck. It was brief though – only lasting a minute, until Arthur sat back with satisfaction, and hummed**.**

A charming smile spread over Francis' lips, the Frenchman now propped up on his elbow. Arthur smirked at him, and then leaned forward again to crawl over him. Francis eased back down to rest on the pillows again, and smiled slyly up at the other. Raising his hand again to touch Arthur's cheek, Francis felt his face flush lightly.

"Would..", Arthur began in a whisper, trailing his fingertips over Francis' chest, and then downwards, "..you like a blowjob this fine morning?" Francis' cheeky smile grew, and his hand moved down to touch Arthur's neck, and then the collarbone that peeked out from the collar of Arthur's pyjama top. He let out a shaky exhale, and then chuckled.

"An hour before I leave to the morning service? How mischievous of you..", he teased, and let his eyes drop over Arthur's torso to follow his hand. "It has no relation. It sounds like you're trying to avoid it. If you wish.", Arthur said blankly, and then began to climb off, but Francis grabbed onto his arms.

"I was only teasing, _cher_.", Francis said hurriedly, and then saw the look of amusement on Arthur's facial features.

* * *

><p>The soft ticking of the grandfather clock wafting from the living room both relaxed and agitated Arthur. Sitting at the dining table, with nothing but his hand clenched on the surface, Arthur thought. He had the time to; seeing as Francis was away at church for the morning.<p>

It was the day he's been planning for. Well, not exactly. He's planned to do this for the past three weeks, but he's been very hesitant. He knows he's changed. Whether for the better or worse, he knows he has. Thanks to his lover, of course. Without him, who knows where he would be.

And that is why Arthur was hesitant. Hesitant to take advantage like this. But he had no other option, really. He wanted absolute happiness with Francis – not occasional. To achieve this, he had to get some other things in his life straight.

That's why tomorrow morning Arthur planned on discussing this with Francis. He wanted to tell him later, so this day wouldn't be sullied.

These were the reasons Arthur's heart clenched with guiltiness when Francis greeted him with a kiss to the cheek when he returned.

"How was the service?", Arthur asked lightly, watching as Francis took off his shoes and loosened his tie. Francis smiled at him, and walked up to him to randomly pull him into an embrace. Arthur returned it lightly, still feeling hesitant about the whole thing. "It was relaxing. Sorry if I made you feel lonely.", the Frenchman murmured, his eyes looking lovingly into Arthur's. Initially, Arthur blushed. "I wasn't.", he mumbled, flickering his eyes away.

"Are you hungry? I can prepare lunch, if you'd like.", Francis offered in a soft voice as he pulled away to walk past Arthur into the kitchen. Feeling his palms grow sweaty, Arthur worried at his lip. He nodded to himself, trying to gain some confidence and strength to get through his uneasiness. He's been through much more nerve-racking things, so this should be a trivial thing...

But he wasn't too keen on losing the one he loved most. Again.

"Arthur?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Arthur cleared his throat. "I..uh, I'm not hungry. I lost my appetite.", he said, his voice breaking slightly. He heard Francis cluck his tongue a few times from the kitchen, "That's a shame. Just a little snack for _moi_, then!" Arthur felt light-headed, so he crossed the kitchen to the living room and took a seat at the couch.

"Arthur?" Francis called his name again.

"Yes?", Arthur replied, and placed a hand over his forehead. He was getting a headache, too. God, he wasn't good in these kinds of situations, whether the other party knew about it or not. He heard footsteps, and his partner walked out of the kitchen with a small vine of grapes in his palm, lifting a single grape to his lips.

"Are you well? You are acting differently.", he observed as he crossed the carpet of the living room to take his specific seat beside the Brit, instantly crossing his legs. He plucked at the grapes as he waited for Arthur's response.

"I..have to request something of you.", Arthur swerved around the question, and turned to face him. He placed his hand on Francis' knee. Pausing mid-chew, Francis eyed him. After swallowing, he gave his full attention to Arthur, and simply held onto the grapes. "Yes?"

Arthur forced a small, reassuring smile. "Would it be alright for you not to enter our bedroom until after dinner? I have a little surprise for you, and it would be awful for it to be spoiled.", he said lightly, with his smile faltering. Francis paused, and then smiled brightly, obviously excited. "Of course!", and then he paused in thought, "Ah..now I'm going to be itching to find out.." Arthur genuinely smiled at his words.

Suddenly, Arthur grew solemn again. He exhaled lightly, and gazed longingly at Francis' animated expression. Raising a hand to slide it over his soft cheek, it silenced his lover's words. Francis was looking into his eyes now, his lips not in a frown, nor a smile. Leaning forward, sliding his other hand over Francis' thigh, Arthur's eyelids drooped slightly. "I'm so in love with you.", he whispered, and then angled his head to delicately connect his lips with the other's.

Upon feeling Francis' gentle hand caress his neck, Arthur's shoulders relaxed. When he felt the lips on his move against his with such tenderness and love, Arthur felt his heart clench, as did his fist on Francis' thigh.

"..I'm so glad to hear that, I love you as well.", Francis breathed when he pull away, and then leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Arthur felt a tightness in his throat, and tried to swallow it down, but it remained, squeezing, and making his eyes water.

* * *

><p>From the start, Francis suspected something was wrong. He wasn't ignorant, nor oblivious. The attitude radiating from Arthur gave away his uneasiness. Francis had waited, hoped, for him to solve things out by himself, but he could tell things were growing more intense.<p>

Within the fifth or sixth week (Francis lost count to how many weeks Arthur has remained here with him), he knew he had to address it directly with his partner. Which he had planned to do tomorrow morning, after breakfast. Perhaps, discussing Arthur's worries with him will solve everything. Francis was edgy, and prayed that his happiness could remain, even for a little bit longer. But he knew now, what he had done wrong.

After hearing Arthur say directly to him that he was in love with him, he knew there wasn't much time left. He was saying his goodbyes.

* * *

><p>"What would you like for dinner today, Arthur? I'll cook you something very special.", Francis asked lightly, as his eyes were fixed on the top of Arthur's head. He had noticed when Arthur was reading on the couch, that he was sitting in a tense manner – his shoulders firm, his back straight with his fingers tapping on the armchair of the couch. Upon noticing his stress, Francis felt anxious and offered a back rub. Arthur accepted with quiet hesitance.<p>

Now, Arthur was sitting on the carpet of the living room, in front of the couch with Francis' skilled hands massaging and kneading his shoulders, and neck.

A moment of silence passed. When Arthur spoke, Francis noticed how tired his voice sounded. "..Whatever you cook for me is special, Francis.", he murmured, and then resumed to his silence. Francis nibbled at the inside of his cheek anxiously, and then forced a smile onto his lips, as if the other was looking. He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of Arthur's head, his short messy hair tickling his nose briefly. In response, Arthur turned his torso to look at him, with a confused expression, Francis' hands remaining to rest on the curve of his shoulders.

"_Non_! I will not accept such a passive answer. You choose this time. I insist.", Francis announced, and then leaned down again to swiftly kiss Arthur's cheek, making the Brit twitch in surprise. Wringing his hands lightly in his lap, Arthur averted his eyes to the fabric of the couch. He licked his lips, and then nodded.

"Okay. I would like..uhm.", Arthur began, and his face went blank after a moment of thought, before his lips pursed into a small frown. "Fish and chips.", he answered, raising his eyes to lock them with Francis'. Francis stared into his eyes, and felt a tightness in his gut.

"Ah...o-of course.", he murmured thoughtfully, and then swallowed heavily. They had nothing else to say, so Arthur turned back to face the TV before them, and Francis returned to massaging his tense shoulders lovingly, with silence and a stern expression on his face.

This continued for another few minutes, until Arthur's tense shoulders eased a bit. Arthur had grown tired of it. "Thank you. That's good.", he said as he stood from the floor, and felt his butt ache from sitting down for a while. Francis looked up at him, and then smiled. "Do you feel better?", Francis asked with hopefulness. Arthur looked at him with a perk of a smile. "Yes.", he answered truthfully. He did feel a bit more relaxed – Francis' massages did that to him. When he sat beside Francis and pulled him into a eager embrace, taking the Frenchman off guard (a melodic laugh coming from him as he returned it), Arthur decided he would try to be in a better mood, for Francis' sake.

He was successful in that part, at least. Francis, surprisingly, let him help prepare dinner. He was sure to keep light conversation as they stood side by side in the kitchen – Arthur working on (slowly) mincing the ingredients, while Francis manned the stove. At one point, Arthur began to playfully pinch Francis' side, attempting him to accidentally burn himself. It ended up becoming a pinching war, which was postponed due to the fact the boiling water was spurting water over the edges, onto the stove, causing hissing from the contact with the burner.

When Arthur had begun to set the table a while later after the completion of the meal, Francis had sneaked up behind him, and swiftly hooked his arms around the Brit's slim waist, pulling him into a surprise-attack hug. Arthur was laughing and returned it with glee. But each embrace they shared, he felt worse internally.

By the time they were seated with the servings of their dinner laid out for their devouring, Arthur felt his anxiety slowly crawl it's way back. It began a battle in his mind to fight away the negative thoughts, but what made him win over was the gentle nudge of Francis' elbow to his side, and a smile given to him. He reminded himself Francis was there for him. Whatever was to come, he knew (and hoped, even a little) that Francis wouldn't abandon him.

With their hands linked, Arthur gave a long look to Francis as the Frenchman bowed his head, and when he began the prayer, Arthur pursed his lips, and bowed his head (out of respect) as well. He listened to the soothing voice that belonged to his lover, and felt his heart clench, his stomach twisting up. He furrowed his brow and tried to focus on the prayer, but it was all blurry. He was too distracted to care to contribute to the prayer being sent to a God he didn't worship.

It was brief though, so it didn't entirely matter. Soon enough, Francis began talking about his day at work excitedly (how he learned a new way to grate cheese in a faster way, or to have a better grip on a potato as he peeled it), before Arthur had moved to lift his fork from the plate.

Arthur was smiling, actually interested in his day at work. It seemed like an exciting job – bustling about a kitchen to whip up numerous orders, _while _being an expert at cooking. It seemed like an impossible accomplishment for Arthur. His smile softened as he glanced at Francis. Unlike himself, Francis had the ability to accomplish anything, probably.

From the beginning, he was honest about wanting to wash Arthur's loneliness away. Arthur would say he did a good job at fulfilling his goal.

Shaking head, Arthur swept his thoughts away, and focused on finishing his meal. Eventually, Francis had finished talking, and it was Arthur's turn. He glanced at the other, seeing a smile on his lips, before swallowing his bite. "You seem to enjoy work.", he commented, before Francis lifted his alluring blue eyes to his.

"Ah, _oui_. It has been my dream job for a while. Well..I had wanted to raise a family for the longest I can remember, but I'm hoping that is still in reach. I'm assuming that is considered a job in itself alone.", he replied in a soft voice, dropping his eyes slightly. Arthur paused. Ah, shit. He felt even more guilty.

Averting his stare to his plate, Arthur felt a lump build in his throat, so he swallowed it down heavily, and exhaled a shaky breath. Putting on a smile, he returned his eyes up to Francis. "I am also curious to what it's like to raise children as your own.", he began with a light tone, "I..heard it was amazing, to be able to care for something so precious to you, and teach them and love them. It's a perfect way to age, I think, giving the love. I want to be able to give that to a child. If I do end up raising a child..I would be sure to treat it with much love and respect they would deserve, unlike my father did for me..", he had begun to babble thoughtfully, and his tone became a little sour at the end.

When he focused his gaze back on Francis, he noticed he was looking at him with a confused and stern expression. Arthur raised his brows, and then opened his mouth to speak again, before Francis had the chance to ask questions.

"N-Now that I think about it, I don't really know all too much about you, Francis..", he thought aloud, and nibbled on his bottom lip. Francis' expression suddenly snapped to realization, and then he laughed lightly, shifting in his seat, crossing his legs.

"You are right. I've only asked you about yourself, but it seems I have yet to describe myself. That's strange, really, seeing as we've been together this long.", Francis mused, and then smiled warmly at Arthur, a bright look on his face. Arthur felt his own face flush a little, feeling his heart jump to a start.

"So, what do you wish to know about _moi_?", Francis asked as he motioned to himself with a flow of his wrist and fingers. Arthur only snorted lightly at the stupid gesture. After swerving in his seat to face the other, he thought.

Might as well with basic questions.

"What is your favorite color? Your favorite three animals? What are your fears?", Arthur threw at Francis, before a small smile came out over his lips. Francis hadn't even paused to think about it. "Turquoise. Birds, cats, dogs. I'm afraid of losing the ones I love.", he answered swiftly in a blank tone, before he flashed a teeth-revealing grin. Arthur paused, and willed not to focus on his last answer, "..Best time of your life?"

On this question, Francis paused, deep in thought, his face scrunching up in concentration. Arthur laughed aloud at his expression, and then closed his lips when Francis flickered his eyes up to him. It was a long moment before the Frenchman opened his lips to speak.

"..Obviously, when I came out of my mother's womb. But, that would be boring, so I'll choose something else.", he began, before clearing his throat, his eyes staring at his fingers that rested on the table, "It was a while ago, actually. Back in my university years in Bordeaux. During my years in university, it was the first time I truly fell in love. Previously, all my other crushes were just infatuations, but this was a real feeling." He paused, and then lifted his hand to make a motion over his heart, "I felt it in _here_. Everywhere, really. It was something I never felt before. When I was in love with her, she had a vague interest in me as well. It started as a close friendship, and escalated to a deep romance."

Arthur stared at him in amazement, never seeing that expression adorning his face before. It was masked with passion and a hint of sadness. He pursed his lips, and wanted to learn more, but that was all Francis mentioned on the topic. Arthur only nodded when Francis raised his eyes to him once more.

"Uhm...I see. What-", Arthur began to ask another question, but Francis cut him off with his own. "What about you?", he insisted with a curious tone, shifting closer in his seat. Arthur blinked a few times, "What?"

"You're favorite time of your life? I have told you mine, so describe yours."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but the thought of his most memorable and cherished period of his life was already appearing in his mind. Snapping his mouth shut, Arthur averted his look to the floor. He fiddled with his fingers in his lap for a long moment, debating whether to tell it to Francis or not. Deciding against it, Arthur knew it could upset him. So, he lied.

"I..don't have many times of my life I enjoyed. But what I always think about, is how my brother stood up for me, when I was at my weakest.", Arthur murmured, and just thinking about it brought a tightening feeling in his throat. Lifting his eyes back to Francis', he smiled, "I don't know. Sorry."

Francis instantly shook his head. "No, I understand.", was all he said, and then he leaned forward to press a loving kiss to Arthur's lips in a brief peck, his hand resting over his thigh lightly. Arthur instantly let his eyes drift close at the contact, and yearned for more when Francis pulled away too soon. Blushing lightly, Arthur swallowed down the lump in his throat. The previous conversation left his concerns entirely, and now he just focused on one thing.

Despite the fact he only asked a limited amount of questions, he planned to ask more later.

"I think it's time I showed you my surprise, yeah?"

Pausing, Francis looked at him and then smiled widely. "_Oui_, that would be wonderful.", he said with excitement in his tone, making Arthur feel a bit more confident and excited himself. Taking Francis' hand, Arthur stood from his seat, and grinned at him.

With their (not-entirely-finished) plates left behind, Arthur walked to the light switch to turn it off, whilst keeping his fingers locked with his lover's, and then turned to guide Francis to and up the staircase, into the darkness above.

Arthur made sure to keep his eyes fixed on Francis' expression as he pushed the door to their bedroom open, revealing the dimly lit interior. He saw the look of shock and amazement on Francis' face, hearing a gasp coming from him, when the Frenchman's eyes focused on the assortment of candles distributed about the room. Some rested on the dresser, two on the night stand, a bit on the desk in the corner, and a single one sitting on the small table beside the door, beside the phone and phone book.

"I made sure to put away the flammable things. And in case there is an incident, there is the fire extinguisher in the kitchen.", Arthur said lightly, reassuring Francis not to worry too much. Instead of replying, Francis gently slid his fingers from the other's, and paced quietly up to the vase of fresh roses that rested on the nightstand beside their canopy bed. Reaching up to gently rub his fingertips over the soft, striking red petals, Francis remained silent. Arthur let him take his time to admire it all, and leaned against the door-frame, crossing his arms.

Noticing something foreign propped up on the nightstand beside the vase, Francis reached over to curl his fingers around the frame, and lifted it to get a better look at it. Thanks to the candles, he could make out two smiling faces, and a beautiful river in the background. He inhaled sharply, realizing what it was.

Turning to Arthur, a large smile was on his lips. He lifted the framed picture to display it to the other, as if he hadn't placed it there. "What is this, Arthur?", he asked, and then took another look at it. Arthur smiled and stood from the door-frame to walk up to him. "It's the picture we took at the Seine, of course.", he replied, reaching out to slide his hand over Francis' back, standing beside him to admire it as well. He only briefly looked at his smiling face in the picture, already enveloped by the bright expression on Francis' face.

"Why is this here, though?", Francis prodded, averting his eyes to look at the other. Arthur's smile softened lightly, "I think it could be considered a gift." Francis laughed, "Whatever for? If I do recall, my birthday isn't until July." Arthur shrugged lightly, and curled his arm around Francis' waist, pulling their sides together. "It's a _really _early gift, I suppose..", he murmured. There was another meaning to his words, but he knew Francis wouldn't fret over it.

"Well, nonetheless, I love it. Thank you. I'll treasure it forever.", Francis said happily, before turning his head to press a strong kiss to Arthur's cheek. Arthur laughed lightly, and felt his stubble rub against his cheek.

"You're welcome.", Arthur replied with a smile in his voice, and then gently pried the frame from Francis' fingers. Francis looked at him with a curious expression as the Brit placed it back down on the nightstand. Taken off guard, Francis made a small "mh" noise when Arthur pressed their lips together passionately.

With his hands instantly rising to curl around Arthur's neck, Francis laughed lightly against his lips, and kissed back. Arthur furrowed his brow, and felt his heart jump to life as he felt Francis bite playfully at his bottom lip. When he grew breathless, Arthur pulled back with a small gasp, and opened his eyes to look at Francis, seeing a smirk on his lips.

"Hm? What's with this possessiveness suddenly..?", Francis all but purred, letting his fingers walk up Arthur's chest. Arthur smiled at him, "Is it so peculiar I wish to kiss the one I love..?" He said this in a murmur as he leaned forward again to press his lips gently over Francis'.

He trailed his hand down Francis' curved back as he openly kissed him, his fingers slyly curling around the hem of his shirt. Feeling Francis suck in a breath when he snaked his hand up his shirt, Arthur smiled against his lips, and disconnected the kiss to nibble at the skin of Francis' neck instead.

"A-Ah, Arthur, is there a specific reason to this, or are you just eager tonight..?", Franics breathed, placing his hands on Arthur's lower back. Arthur trailed his kisses and soft bites up Francis' neck, until he was hovering his lips on his jawline.

"I want to give you a night to remember..", he murmured against his skin, as he trailed his hands up Francis' sides. Francis hummed lightly, and let his eyes drift close as Arthur pressed loving kisses to the side of his face, brushing his hair away delicately with his fingertips. "And what will this night hold, exactly?", Francis asked quietly, sliding his hand higher up Arthur's back.

Chuckling lightly, Arthur exhaled, his breath brushing over Francis' ear. "I want to pleasure you. So I will do pleasurable _things _to you. And then you may use my body for whatever you wish.", he whispered. Staring at the soft looking canopy of their bed, Arthur thought to himself about what he was planning to do, until the soft gasp from his lover distracted him.

"You are acting so strange. It's not like you to do all this for me.", Francis said lightly, his hands sliding around Arthur's back to rest at his sides. Arthur smiled and pulled back to look at Francis. Raising a hand, he stroked his knuckles over Francis' cheek, "You have done so much for me, I want to repay, even a little, in some way." Francis' amused smile faltered.

"You have nothing to repay. Being with me is enough, Arthur.", he said sternly, like he had said in their previous argument last week. Arthur bit his lip in worry, and then held Francis' cheeks in his hands before he leaned forward to press their lips together in a passionate kiss.

"That's..not what I meant. Let's just focus on this moment, okay?", he murmured when he pulled back, not wanting this to become an altercation. A moment of silence and a stressful atmosphere passed, of Francis gazing into his eyes (searching for any hint of lie), before a sigh exhaled from his lips, and he nodded lightly. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be.", Arthur said and then moved his hands up under Francis' shirt, leaning forward to press his lips in a tender peck to Francis'. He smiled to himself softly at hearing Francis' breath stutter, and due to the fact that Francis' skin was so warm and it brought a feeling of comfort and pure _love _into him. He knew he was going to enjoy this. Both of them were.

Francis rested his hands on the small of Arthur's back again. With their arms busy embracing one another, Arthur was slowly, and seductively, sliding Francis' shirt up, his eyes locked with his partner's. He could easily spot the loving look in his eyes – as well as the daze of lust. When Arthur slid his shirt above his chest, Francis briefly lifted his arms to allow him to pull it off his torso. Arthur instantly let the article of clothing become acquaintances with the carpet.

Immediately, Arthur ran his hands hungrily over Francis' toned back, and then around to touch his belly lightly. Once he trailed his hands up his chest, brushing over his nipples, he let his hands rest over his pectoral muscles, whilst feeling his heart beat. Francis was already excited it seemed, due to his rapid heart beat and his ragged breathing.

Arthur looked in the other's turquoise eyes, and then admired his golden curled locks, and the way his slight stubble complimented his facial features. Letting his eyes drift over his _attractive _body, Arthur wondered why he had the luck of falling love with such a perfect person. Both outside and inside. Arthur found it a shame that it was turning out this way.

Instantly kicking those depressing thoughts out the window, he returned to ogling Francis' body.

By the time he raised his eyes back to meet Francis', he noticed a smug smirk was tugging at his lips. "I am like built like a Greek god, _non_?", Francis teased as he swept a hand over his torso in a very annoying way. Arthur squinted at him, and then scoffed. "Don't get too smug, I was just deciding where to attack next." Francis' smirk softened into an amused smile, with his eyebrow now jutting up a little higher. "Oh?"

Arthur returned the slight smirk, "And it seems your mouth needs to be shut." After he spoke this, he leaned forward to press their lips together. Francis was expecting a harsh kiss, but it was just a loving, gentle embrace of lips. He hummed in delight, and snaked his hands up over Arthur's curved back. Arthur moved his hands up from Francis' chest, to caress his cheeks.

When Arthur broke the kiss to lightly press his lips to Francis' cheek and chin, he murmured, "Sit on the bed and spread your legs, love." Francis paused, his hands lingering on Arthur's back. He smirked, and nodded silently, before he sat back on the edge of the bed, his hands sliding from Arthur.

Instantly following, Arthur got on his knees in front of Francis' legs, and then reached up, whilst keeping his shining eyes (from the candle light) fixed on Francis', to slide his hands intimately up his thighs. He moved them back down to his knees, and then forced them open. With a blush heavy on his cheeks, Francis felt his heart leap with nervousness and his stomach twist with excitement. The way Arthur was staring into his eyes was so sexy, and it made Francis' skin crawl.

With his hands sneaking inwards to the button and zipper of Francis' jeans, Arthur licked his lips before he broke his stare, and was quick to under his pants before swiftly yanking them down, allowing Francis' half-erect penis to spring out. Francis sucked in a sharp breath at the release, and tightened his grip on the comforter. Arthur eyed it hungrily as he eased Francis' pants off his legs entirely.

Without hesitation, he scooted between Francis' legs, angling his torso and body a bit, and didn't wait to grab onto the shaft of his cock. But now, it became stiffer when Arthur leaned in to mouth at the head with his lips. Francis let a groan tumble from his lips messily as he craned his head back lightly, opening his legs wider.

When he returned his gaze down to watch Arthur roll his tongue over the sensitive nerves of the head of his cock, he gasped and leaned back a bit, propping up on his elbows. Arthur hummed with appreciation, glad there was more room.

Francis watched him through half-lidded eyes as he pressed kisses up and down the shaft. Watching Arthur work like this eased more arousal into him. Just the sight of him being on his knees like this made Francis' heart race. It was when Francis was thinking of this when Arthur decided to take the head in his mouth, and suck harshly, keeping his cheeks hollowed. Francis let out a stuttered moan, before his hands met Arthur's head, his fingers lacing in his short soft locks.

"Oh, _merde_, Arthur..", Francis breathed as Arthur moved his arousal out of the way to tease and mouth at his balls, whilst stroking his cock. He groaned, and watched as Arthur began sucking on one of his balls. Francis could see his eyes close, his eyelashes resting on his cheeks. It looked so innocent when he was doing something so vulgar.

Dragging his tongue as he went up, Arthur proceeded to rub his lips over the head. He was just plainly teasing, and it still sent Francis in a whirl of pleasure. He heard a few chuckles from Arthur, and then he took the head in his mouth again, and angled his head to suddenly swallow it all inside his throat, his nose pressed into Francis' lower abdomen.

Bucking his hips lightly, Francis tossed his head back and gasped. Rolling his hips, he kept a hand on Arthur's head. "Ah, yes like that, so good..", he gasped and moaned, before he raised his head to look down at Arthur, seeing his lips secured around the base of his cock. It was so erotic, but when Arthur looked up at him through his eyelashes, Francis gasped again, and bit his lip. He could have sworn he saw the corners of the lips around his cock curve upwards.

When Arthur retracted his head slowly, keeping a light suction as he swat his tongue against the head, Francis let out an exhale, and moved his hand to touch Arthur's cheek. Arthur let his arousal fall from his lips with a light vulgar noise, before he smirked up at the other, his hands sliding to the insides of his thighs.

Once he pressed a wet kiss to Francis' lower abdomen, he began to stroke his saliva-wet cock with a hand. His cock was fully erect now. Raising his eyes to look into Francis' again, he licked his lips. "Do you want to penetrate me now, Francis? I'm so horny and turned on from just sucking you off.", he whispered as he stood from his knelt position, leaning over Francis' body to press his lips to the other's in a passionate kiss. Francis groaned quietly against his lips, and reached a hand up to caress the back of his head.

When they separated, Francis breathed, "You're so sexy." Arthur only smiled at him and pushed him back onto the bed, before he crawled over him, still stroking his arousal behind his back. "Please undress me.", Arthur murmured, and reached down to rub against the front of his own pants, to just give _any _sort of stimulation to his own erection. Francis' breath paused, and then he smiled.

Arthur let out a small squeak of surprise when he was turned over to rest on his back, his head meeting the soft pillows at the head of the bed. He sucked in a breath when fingers were hastily working on the buttons of his waistcoat, his face flushing as he gazed up at Francis' aroused expression.

Dipping his head low to nip at the exposed skin of Arthur's collar bone, he eased his sleek waistcoat off his torso, before gently disposing of it over the side of the bed. With hurried fingers, he undid the tie around Arthur's neck, and let it join the waistcoat.

Breathing a bit abnormally now, Arthur was biting at his bottom lip, shifting under Francis' legs. With Francis straddling him, it was kind of hard for the Frenchman to yank his slacks down, but when he successfully made them off his legs, he instantly palmed Arthur's cock through his underwear, ripping a groan from Arthur's throat. Quickly working on the buttons of Arthur's dress shirt, Francis grew frustrated. "How could you plan this, and yet wear so much clothing? It's annoying.", he growled, before shoving his dress shirt off his torso, and then proceeded to bite and kiss at Arthur's chest and stomach.

"A-Ah, I wanted to look nice today for you but—mmh!", he was cut off by Francis yanking his underwear down, his erection bouncing out into the cold air. But Francis' hand was already stroking it fluidly before Arthur had the chance to complain. Panting now, Arthur rested his hands on Francis' shoulders when the Frenchman began to kiss at his cheek and forehead.

"Francis, I wanted to pleasure you, don't worry about me..", Arthur breathed, his voice stuttering a little. Francis chuckled against the skin of his neck, "_Non, non_. I don't think you understand. Your pleasure is my pleasure, dear. When I hear you moan, it turns me on, so it's a win-win situation, yes?"

Arthur only replied with a breathless gasp when Francis eased his other hand down to tease at Arthur's balls. "Mm, Francis, please.", Arthur growled with annoyance and exasperation, fidgeting under the other. Francis smiled at him tenderly, and then leaned down to silence him by a soft kiss to his lips. "Patience.", he whispered against his lips, and when he looked at him, he saw a look of frustration adorning his face.

Letting out a few deep breaths to calm himself, Arthur closed his eyes, focusing on the rapid beating of his heart – the blood coursing through his veins, and the feeling of Francis' gentle fingers pleasing him. It was amazing.

Opening his eyes to gaze at Francis' soft expression, he felt a swell in his heart. Ever since he was a boy, he's always wondered what being in love was like. Holding, embracing, loving. Being for each other, doing whatever you can to make your partner happy. That's what he wanted. And when he was a teenager, he imagined to share a passionate moment like this – not hiding away, keeping your body specifically reserved for this person and this moment. It seemed cheesy, but Arthur had always daydreamed of sharing this experience with the one he loved.

It was a lot more breath-taking in real life, that's for sure.

This was running through Arthur's mind as Francis kissed at his skin, occasionally leaving marks that represented his territory. On one specific bite to his collarbone, Arthur gasped and licked his lips. "Please, _Francis_.", he breathed with sincerity, before grabbing onto Francis' bare thighs. Francis chuckled against his neck before he nodded.

Sliding his hands up from Arthur's pink arousal, he trailed them up Arthur's belly and chest, to hold his jaw as he pressed a strong kiss to his separated lips. Kissing back openly, Arthur hummed and closed his eyes, stroking Francis' back with his hands. As they kissed strongly, their tongues gently embracing (not really putting an effort into making it a messy kiss), Francis reached out to pull open the drawer of the nightstand quietly, dipping his hand in to feel around for the lubrication.

When Arthur broke the kiss with a gasp, he fluttered his eyelids open to stare up at the other. He noticed that the candles cast beautiful shadows that danced across their skin. And illuminated Francis' eyes. It was enchanting how the black of the shadows made his facial features more eminent. If he was an artist, he would take this opportunity to sketch out Francis like this.

But he wasn't, so he just pulled Francis back down into a tender embrace of lips.

After Francis had withdrawn the lubrication, Arthur instantly shifted out from under his legs, and opened his own, and beckoned Francis forward. Laughing as he did so, Francis moved between his lover's legs, and kissed him again on the lips and then the chin. Arthur instantly pressed his legs into Francis' sides, and reached up to run his fingertips down his biceps, smiling at the other lightly.

Looking at Arthur with tender eyes, Francis smiled at him softly. When he felt Arthur lightly trail his fingers down his forearms, to grab his hands, he paused. Arthur's fingers were clasping onto his hands, simply holding, before he eased them down to press them against his inner thighs. Flickering his eyes back up to Arthur's, he saw the dazed look in his irises as he slowly moved his hands more inwards, to brush them over his balls and entrance.

When he heard Arthur suck in a sharp breath, he understood, the look in his lover's eyes familiar. Leaning forward to press a strong, but terse, kiss to Arthur's unresponsive lips, he took the oil bottle and opened it, tilting and squeezing to let a bit fall into his palm. He slicked the oil over his fingers, keeping his eyes fixed on Arthur's, and then leaned forward again to press his lips in a gentler fashion to his partner's, and this time, Arthur responded by placing a hand over the back of his neck over his hair, his fingers curling around.

"I'm glad I am able to share this with you.", he whispered breathlessly when their lips parted. Francis, taken a little off-guard at his words, gazed into his bright bottle green irises, and then smiled at him warmly. "You've taken the words from my mouth.", Francis replied quietly, and then pressed a gentle kiss to Arthur's cheek.

And with that, Francis eased his index finger into Arthur, and then made a hooking motion whilst twisting his wrist, earning a gasp from the other. Already, he added a second.

When both parties were plenty satisfied with the preparing (and stalling), Arthur tugged at Francis' erection, earning a small chuckle from the other, and for Francis to scoot closer between Arthur's thighs. Spreading his legs wider, Arthur bit his lip and craned his neck to observe as Francis guided his cock (God, Arthur never got over that motion) with his slender fingers, before gently pushing into the other.

Groaning as he craned his head back, Arthur dug his short fingernails into Francis' biceps. In return, Francis slid his arms around Arthur, holding him closer. Arthur bit his lip and opened his eyes when he felt lips begin to kiss his neck lovingly.

"H-How many times do you think we've done this?", Arthur asked in a murmur, stroking his hands down Francis' bare back. Francis hummed against the skin of Arthur's neck, and exhaled. "If I'm not mistaken, twenty-six times.", he replied quietly, before he began to roll his hips sensually. After a short gasp, Arthur had to take a moment before speaking again.

"You've..been keeping track? How predictable of you."

"_Non_", kiss to his jawline, "I just", kiss to his cheek, "remember each one", kiss to the corner of his lips, "specifically." Arthur remained silent as Francis finally kissed at his mouth. Arthur returned the embrace of lips lightly, thoughtfully, and then smiled softly.

Upon their lips separating once more, Arthur smirked up at the other. "Even if you are an pompous prick sometimes, I do love the way you are.", he murmured, before he trailed his slender hands up Francis' shoulders, reaching up to thread them through his golden locks.

"Likewise.", Francis replied with a teasing tone, just as he gave a more eminent rock of his hips. It resulted in Arthur to let out a breathy gasp, and an arch of his back and roll of his waist.

And after that, neither of them had the patience anymore.

Arthur locked his legs around his waist, and reached his hands around to place them on the warm skin of Francis' sides. Snaking his hand down to rhythmically stroke him, Francis began to roll his hips in a more sensual, fluid motion.

Groaning quietly in response, Arthur bit his lip and turned his head to the side, feeling Francis' lips working on the skin of his neck and jawline. "Mm, Francis..", he breathed, his eye lids drifting shut, embracing just the sensations of his lover.

With the warmth of Francis' skin and kisses, Arthur felt a little overwhelmed. The atmosphere and feeling that the candles and roses and _everything _formed this tight feeling and sensation in Arthur, that made him feel emotional. He wondered if he ever felt this happy in the past, seeing as there wasn't much throughout his life before now. Curling his arms around Francis and pulling him close, he relished on the fact that this cocky, demanding Frenchman was the one who healed him.

Letting out a deep exhale, he loosened his arms around his partner's neck to press a strong and caring kiss to Francis' unsuspecting lips. Instantly, he felt hands slide up from his legs to hold his cheeks, the lips against his responding positively.

Opening his eyes, Arthur pulled away gently and gazed up at the other. He moved his hands down to slide them over Francis' chest. Arthur saw his illuminated turquoise eyes open to look at him with a tenderness, as if they were smiling. It took Arthur's breath away.

"I love you.", Arthur whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you."

The expression that adorned Francis' features was one that made Arthur's heart leap, and his palms grow sweaty. It was of a tenderness, and with a hint of bewilderment. Francis' had ceased his movements, now just their skin touching.

"Arthur, I feel the same way, but why this outburst suddenly?", he asked quietly, his impeccable brow furrowing slightly with a look of sincere concern. Arthur stiffened, his muscles tensing. He knew he was becoming daunt. And he knew, like the back of his hand, that it was arduous for him to speak and express his true and deepest feelings. Hell, it took him a while to realize his feelings for Francis.

The point is, Arthur didn't know how to answer this inquiry.

"I..", he began after swallowing the lump of indecision down his throat, "I'm just.." He trailed off, his mind going blank in anxiety. He wanted to abscond. Instead, he spotted the flicker of understanding in Francis' eyes. It wasn't a look of relief, though.

"No, it's alright.", Francis murmured, and then leaned down to press a gentle caress of lips to his forehead. Arthur looked up at him with a frown on his lips, and a look of unease in his eyes.

But soon enough, his agitation and restiveness was disintegrated, when the warmth of the body heat and the passion clouded his unnecessarily concerned mind, urging him to be enveloped solely in the sensations. It eased his mind, and made it seem like everything was perfect, right at that moment. With Francis' warm and light hands ghosting over him, sending love and pleasure as they went. The erratic movement clouded both his mind and judgment.

Even at the time when the bliss, and the exhaustion came, soon it was replaced with the crushing weight of his dread – which has been forming and hardening in the pit of his stomach. He could never surmount his fears, like he intended, and speak his intentions to the only person who he loved, and only loved him. It was a horrendous and made his hands tremble as he clutched the blanket close to his body.

He always assumed the most content place he could be was resting in the arms of love, but even when Francis pulled him close into his embrace, pressing constant kisses of his lips to his head, he couldn't decompress.

With the candles casting slashes of darkness about the room, over their quieted bodies, Arthur glanced at Francis. The Frenchman was resting his head on Arthur's slim shoulder, his eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his mouth slightly open with the intake of breaths. Reaching a quivering hand out, Arthur delicately brushed his luscious golden locks behind his ear, with the very tips of his fingers.

"Sleep well, my love.", he heard Francis mumble lightly, shifting in his laying position, drawing closer to the other. Arthur felt his heart clench. He smiled softly, and held Francis' cheek, brushing his thumb across the skin in strokes, before resting his arm over the covers, on his stomach.

Arthur wasn't really the most intrepid person. And, he wasn't one to express his emotions freely. The warmth of the atmosphere, and the body beside his own (an arm resting across his waist, holding him close) clashed with the disconsolate feelings clenching around his heart.

He wasn't one to shed tears, either.

But, he allowed a few to breach his reddened eyes. They left small trails as they silently descended his cheeks, before hooking around his chin. That's when he hastily raised a hand to irately rub them off his cheeks, and used the back of his hand to wipe it off his chin. Sniffing, he exhaled a deep breath, and finally closed his eyes in an attempt to fall into a deep slumber.

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><p><strong>10:13 a.m, after breakfast<strong>

Upon the completion of clearing the table, and loading the dishwasher, Arthur requested Francis' presence at the dinner table.

Now with Francis sitting across from him, with a light expression on his face, Arthur felt nervous. He knew this could potentially make Francis' day plummet, but overcoming this fear was his goal. Clearing his throat as he folded his hands on the surface of the table, he shifted in his seat, and locked his eyes with Francis'.

"I have something..to tell you.", Arthur began hesitantly, and licked his lips with a terse moment of anxiety. Francis hummed thoughtfully, and crossed his arms. "I assumed as much.", he replied simply, before his lips pressed into a emotionless line. Letting out a shuddering breath, Arthur worried at his bottom lip.

"I need to leave you. For a while.", he said sternly, and flickered his eyes away and to Francis, his mind racking with unease for his response. Francis was silent, for the most part. "May I ask why?", his voice came out as a murmur, his eyes downcast to the linoleum of the kitchen floor.

For a moment, silence remained. Arthur was just plainly staring at the other. The sunlight poured in through the wide window behind him, the flower patterned drapes shielding a small portion. The brightness lit the room. Dust motes were visible, and the sound of birds chirping and singing wafted in through the windows. They were very calming features for the atmosphere, and it convinced Arthur to relax.

"I can't find happiness here.", Arthur spoke again, crossing his legs. Flickering his eyes back up to Arthur's, Francis looked at him with a furrowed brow. "I am always unsatisfied with my days here. And my wishes seem to grow farther and farther away as each day passes. I need to strive for what I want in life." He fiddled with the sleeve of his turtleneck nervously, with his face scrunched up in frustration.

"I don't know what other words I could say, other than I need to start my future life.", returning his eyes to Francis' alluring royal blue eyes. He spotted Francis' hands fidgeting on the table top. Frowning, Arthur realized he's never really seen Francis _fidget _before.

Clearing his throat again, Arthur sighed. "But I know you are my future. I just want everything to be perfect, and with a feeling of dissatisfaction, that's not possible." Another terse pause of quietness, but Francis' fidgeting ceased.

Smiling lightly at the other, Arthur shifted in his seat. "I am_ not _breaking up with you, love.", he murmured, and slithered his hand across the table top to hook his fingers around Francis' sweaty (from anxiety) palm, in a hold.

"I just want to start this _right_."

It went silent thrice more, and the way Francis raised his eyes back to Arthur's, his expression of thoughtfulness, made Arthur feel a little better. Then Francis raised their hands, ascending Arthur's hand to his lips, to press a kiss to the knuckle of his finger.

"I understand.", he said with a soft, sincere smile, and returned their hands to the table. Arthur gave a small squeeze to his hand, and then returned the smile, but more timidly. Suddenly, his momentarily stress evaporated, and his heart was released from the cage of worry. He felt much more relaxed, for the first time in weeks.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**_: So, one part left, and the epilogue. Or I hope so. Sometimes I include unnecessary bits but we'll see. Anyways, excuse the wait. And, I would like to apologize of the lack of descriptive sex? I had promised to write some this part, and I guess I did, but it wasn't really what I had expected to write. I've just grown bored of writing porn for this fic, apparently. Sorry, ahaha. And for those who care, Arthur's best time of his life was when he was with Alfred, just saying.


	16. Chapter 16

**Warning:** UKFr

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><p>With now a warm cup of tea curled in his chilly hands, one of steaming coffee in his lover's, Arthur situated into comfort in his seat, and let out a shaky exhale. Letting his eyelids rest over his sight for a moment, he willed his shoulders to grow lax.<p>

Upon hearing the clearing of Francis' throat, he opened his eyes and looked up at his love. Still hesitating to explain, he focused on admiring the way his luscious hair curled at the tips, and the golden shade beaming in the light. The endless sea of his enchanting eyes.

"Arthur.", Francis simply said, his brow creasing in impatience. Arthur raised his eyes to gaze at the crinkle of his skin where his eyebrows leaned in. Licking his dried lips, he raised his tea to his lips and took a brief drink, and then made a face at the heat that bombarded his taste buds with scorching heat. He regained his composure, and wiped his face clean as he set his mug back down.

When he finally focused on Francis' expression, it was of anxiety and intolerance.

Setting his forearms on the surface of their dining room table, he sighed again. "Basically..", he began in a quiet voice, staring at the swirling patterns of the wood, "I want to go to college, like we've discussed. But I don't want to be...living with you during those years. I need the isolation to focus on my studies, and other reasons." He waved his hand dismissively.

Flickering his eyes up to meet Francis' intense navy blue irises, he traveled his tongue over his bottom lip. "For the occupation I wish for, it's going to be a bloody long eight years. Or around that.", he continued, and raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, "I need a Bachlor's Degree, and a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree. And I need to get a license as well."

Francis simply nodded as he took a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on Arthur. Letting out an exhale, Arthur shrugged. "It's not like I won't talk to you, or visit you, during those years. During holidays and weekends or something, you could visit me, or the other way around. And obviously I would call you everyday or so. It's not like I'm going to enjoy missing you, but I know I couldn't do it here, in France."

"I..see.", Francis murmured, and then looked down into the mists of his coffee, watching the liquid stir lightly from his previous drink. Arthur remained silent for a moment, his eyes falling to look distantly at Francis' hands, escaping into thought.

What was Francis' honest opinion of all this? Was he angry? Of course he had to be – he was abandoning him. Arthur began to worry that their relationship could eventually end due to his absence. Francis would surely grow agitated from being alone, and just drop it all. Arthur didn't even deserve his love in the first place. Francis could do much better. Arthur was an insufferable prick only a few months ago, and yet Francis was giving so much love and happiness. He wondered why it all turned out this way.

When the hand he was intently staring at moved to rest over his on the table, he snapped out of his daunting thoughts, and lifted his gaze to Francis' smiling face. "It's alright. I will still love you, even if you are hundreds of miles away. No matter the distance, I won't betray you. You are the one that I belong with Arthur, no matter how long I have to wait for it, I will.", he spoke in a confident voice, his eyes bright and hopeful, and his lips curled softly into a tender smile.

Arthur could _feel _the way his heart was squeezed, as if by a fist. But then it retaliated, and began to beat rapidly. He blinked once, twice, before his lips broke into a weary and thankful perk of a smile. "Thank you. I..", he began and then blushed, "I feel the same." He curled his hand to hook his fingers with Francis'.

The smile over Francis' thin lips softened slightly, "How long til you leave?" Arthur gave his hand a light squeeze, and lowered his gaze to the embrace of their hands, "I was hoping a week, just to pack and say goodbyes. I'll plan everything out when I get back to London." He heard a shaky exhale, and raised his evergreen eyes to look at his boyfriend.

"Then let's cherish this last week, my love.", Francis murmured, reaching his hand out to ghost his fingers over the soft, tinted flesh of Arthur's cheek. A simple, sincere, and happy smile spread over Arthur's lips, and he happily nodded, his eyes shining with true delight.

* * *

><p>And that's what they did.<p>

It was all so ironic for Arthur. Previously before Francis, he's only remembered bad times (besides with Alfred), and he knew he wasn't leading a very important life. No one would care if he passed away. He was worthless, vile, and only took up space. That's what Arthur convinced himself, because he _hated _himself.

His father had beat this idea into him, both physically and mentally, so it was etched constantly into his mind, reminding him daily how _useless_ he was.

This remained, clenching at his soul and his heart as each day passed, until that specific day, of him slouched on that beat-up excuse of a couch, like he was, as a person. He felt that way, even at that exact moment. But, surprisingly, he was giving a reprieve of these degrading thoughts when a golden-haired, and ocean-eyed stranger actually cared for him. Cared enough to speak to him, cared enough to _care_. It moved Arthur so intensely, that he didn't even notice!

And he never knew, on that particular day, that this man, this arrogant and agitating person, would change his life for the better. Gave him the love he desperately desired.

On the first day, after their exchange of words at the dining table in the bright light of the winter morning, they decided to have a sappy date – eating at a pristine, four-star restaurant. And that way, Arthur was able to learn even more about Francis. But they turned out to be a little inebriated from the multiple glasses of wine, and ended up making out like teenagers in the back of Francis' convertible. Francis' was least intoxicated, and he was still coherent, so he was able to drive them back home afterwards.

And on the second day, it was extremely colder than it was the previous day, foiling Francis' plans to take him back out to the Seine and to enjoy a nice picnic with him, like before. So instead, they decided for this day to be a stay-in evening, with just relaxing in each other's company. And having multiple rounds of sex.

For the third day, they visited a museum. Not just any boring, ordinary museum, but the Musée du Louvre. Arthur had fretted over the exorbitant price, but Francis brushed it off, insisting to appreciate the works of magnificent art with his love. And it went fairly well, seeing as Arthur was entirely enchanted with each piece of creation. Especially the Mona Lisa. Arthur never anticipated, not in a million years, that he would be given the privilege to admire this remarkable, and legendary piece. Francis beamed from his success with providing Arthur a memorable day.

Arthur came up with their plans on the fourth day. It was just to simply spend time together at a park. It was chilly that evening, so Francis bundled Arthur up in a jacket under a trench coat, with a pair of gloves and scarf accompanying the outfit. He knew how the cold clung to your skin and settled and _bit_ in Paris. The temperature display may say one degree Celsius above, but the winters here are wet, and cold, so it seems a lot more numbing.

It was when Francis fastened the last button of his coat when Arthur pulled the front door open, resulting a gush of cold air to brush against their cheeks. Instantly becoming hesitant, Arthur threw a reluctant glance at the other. Francis only smiled softly, and swept a hand forward, urging him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Arthur righted his scarf and paced out into the chilly air. Already, goosebumps shot across his skin. He shivered and began rubbing his arms through the layered fabric resting over them. He turned to see Francis quietly shut and lock the door behind them.

When the Frenchman turned to face him, and instantly smiled, his cheeks tinted a light pink, Arthur's face flushed as well – but not from the cold. He returned the smile, but meekly, and reached a hand out, which Francis approached him and took. Nibbling on his bottom lip, Arthur squeezed his hand and let him guide him to the red Convertible perched on the driveway. It's roof was up, though, Arthur noticed.

Their hands separated when Francis began towards the driver's side, and Arthur to the passenger's.

It was like from the beginning, Arthur thought to himself with a gentle smile of his lips. When Francis first took him to the diner. And, with a pursed smile, Arthur recalled their intimate times as well. In the parking lot of the movie theatre. In the back after Francis drove him home. And there was that one time when they were too impatient and horny to even leave the car to go inside the house.

When Francis started the car, and the heater blasted it's much craved heat onto Arthur's arms and face, his thoughts were wiped clean and he diverted his attention back to reality. Blinking a few times, Arthur instantly went lax against his seat, and let out a deep exhale. When Francis began to back out of their driveway, and turned onto the long winding dirt path, Arthur wondered how long it would take to make it to the park.

"So..", Arthur began as they passed the long row of endless trees, "which park are we visiting?" Francis hummed, his fingers tapping against the leather of the steering wheel, and glanced at the other. "Parc Sainte-Périne.", he said simply, and then smiled softly at the other. Arching a brow, Arthur scoffed. "I have no bloody idea what that is, but okay." Francis only laughed lightly, a rumble in his throat, and his lips were curved into a grin, "Obviously." After swatting Francis on the arm in annoyance, Arthur crossed his arms tightly and stared out the window with a furrowed brow. He could hear Francis continue to chuckle.

It took about twenty minutes to arrive at the park. Seeing as their property was on the outskirts of Paris, it was expected. A light smile lingered on Francis' lips as he brought the car to a stop in the parking lot, throwing a delighted glance at Arthur before quickly unbuckling his seat belt, yanking his keys from the ignition, and pushing his door open to step out. Arthur followed suit, but in a slower and more eased manner. And once they locked the car, Francis linked his hand in Arthur's gloved one, and began towards the interior of the park.

Arthur, shy to hold Francis' hand in public, glanced around and took note of only a small family, a woman giving her dog a quick walk, and some singular people scattered about. He gazed around – seeing the proud trees diffused about, their leaves resting on the grass below, many benches lined together, and a big expanse of a grass field. Not many plants in sight, the frost has been taking it's toll on them, probably.

Pulling his scarf closer around his neck, he shivered. When he saw Francis glance at him, a smile remaining on his lips, Arthur raised his brows lightly, and blinked a few times. Upon feeling Francis give a squeeze to his hand, Arthur felt his face warm up a little from the blood that rushed up. Eventually, they wound up on a small dirt path. Walking side by side, they remained silent.

Flickering his eyes down to look at their hands, he noticed Francis' hand was bare of a glove, and the fingers growing red at the tips. Instantly, he fretted and gently eased his hand away (receiving a confused glance from his lover), before slipping his glove off. Returning his eyes to Francis, he reached out to grab his hand again, and meekly curled his fingers through Francis'.

As always, he noticed the look of absolute and sincere love and tenderness in Francis' eyes, his smile softening. Blushing, Arthur bit on his bottom lip. "So..I can help keep your hand warm..", Arthur murmured, averting his eyes.

Without a word in response, Francis only tightened the embrace of their hands.

Silenced even stayed close as they made it around the park once or twice, before Arthur complained he was cold and wanted to sit down. Understanding, Francis lead him towards a nearby bench. Once seated, they were sitting close together, their hands still linked on Arthur's lap.

With his eyes roaming over the frosting trees and darkly colored sky, Arthur let out a deep exhale, and smiled. He could see his breath. It reminded him of smoking, and now he felt a crave, but ignored it – seeing as he left his cigarettes purposefully at home.

Glancing over at Francis, he saw he was admiring the cloudy sky as well. Arthur, mesmerized, stared at him. How his golden locks were spilled over his shoulders, contrasting with the dark color of his coat. And how his cheeks and nose were bitten red. Arthur could even see his ears were, too. But, what he noticed most of all, was how a smile never seemed to disappear from his lips. Arthur gazed until Francis finally diverted his attention to him.

After receiving a brighter smile, and loving eyes, he felt his heart swell with adoration.

"Are..you happy?", Arthur blurted out in a question, and then flickered his eyes from and to Francis. Pausing, his face wiping to confusion, Francis stared at him with raised eyebrows. Cursing at himself mentally for asking a stupid question, Arthur stared at the ground. He felt like pulling his hand from Francis', but resisted the urge to not offend him.

Instead, he glanced at the other, and realized a tender expression replaced his confusion. Arthur averted his eyes, shying away from that look of affection. Was he ever going to get use to Francis and his love? Probably not.

"Arthur", Francis began in a soft voice. Returning his eyes hesitantly to Francis' enveloping blue eyes, Arthur waited for an answer. But he didn't expect Francis to raise his other hand and gingerly trail his fingers down his cold cheek. Instead, it spiked his blood to flow into his cheeks, making his face redder than it already was. When he cupped his hand over his cheek, Francis smiled.

"Returning my love is all that could make me happy, dear. I haven't been this happy in years, and it's because of _you_. I'm sure of it. Thank you.", he murmured. Arthur felt his heart clatter around in his ribcage, and his hands instantly sweat an ocean. Surely Francis could feel the sudden perspiration in their hand holding.

Feeling hot in his layers of clothing, Arthur wondered if his embarrassment and flattery was apparent on his face. When Francis leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his lips, Arthur only weakly returned it, still stunned.

"I-I..", he began, swallowing down the rock in his throat, "..don't know what to say." Francis only chuckled and smiled, his teeth revealed. "That's alright. I'm curious as well – what about you?", he inquired, his eyes curious and obviously full of interest. Arthur paused, too, and wondered.

He never really thought about it in depth. But now, that he really considered it, perhaps he was. It was strange, really. He always saw happiness as such a difficult thing to grasp. He's only truly experienced sincere happiness once or twice, and that was with Alfred, admittedly. And when his mother was alive. But it's been so long since he's felt this way.

Frowning in thought, he stared at his feet, before finding his answer. Lifting his eyes to meet Francis' curious irises, his lips twitched into an attempt of a smile. "I...s-suppose.", he said, his voice breaking slightly. He hesitated to finish. It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but he wanted Francis to know.

Blushing and looking away, he quickly mumbled, "You..changed my life. And I..I don't think I would've..lasted much longer." He could feel his heart pound against the prison of his ribcage, his eyes dilated. He didn't know why, but he felt so anxious and embarrassed. He never lost his composure like this, but Francis affected him in such a way. It was both infuriating and refreshing.

"Wait. What do you mean by that?", Francis prodded, looking at him with a concerned furrow of his brow. Freezing, Arthur realized he said too much. Even with this little bit of information, he could tell Francis would be put off. He would probably be disgusted. Francis barely knew anything about his past, and this was so tame compared to what he'll eventually describe. He didn't know when he would summon the courage, but nonetheless, he could tell Francis was becoming upset just from what he revealed.

Hesitantly glancing up to look at him, Arthur worried at his bottom lip. Sliding his hand away gently from his, Arthur began to fiddle with his glove in his lap.

"Arthur?"

Pursing his lips, Arthur let out a sigh. "The..night after you first met me. In the dressing room. I was..", he began in a soft voice, his eyes fixed on his lover's, "I was planning to..off myself the next day." He forced this from his lips, and felt his throat tighten in fear of Francis' abandonment. When Francis' expression became woeful, and then hardened, Arthur bit his lip.

"Why? Were you really that unhappy? Please don't think of that again.", Francis said in a hurried tone, his hands reaching out to grab Arthur's in an action of hurt and love. Arthur frowned, "I was. But that's what I'm getting at. You, uh, saved my life." Pausing to scrutinize Francis' reaction, all he found was shock across his facial features.

"When you came back the second day, and showed..that you _cared_. Saying you were there for me, and not to gain anything in return, I felt so..relieved, subconsciously. When you treated me to food, I was utterly confused to why someone like _you_ would care for someone like _me. _That confusion formed into a blank state, I was trying to figure out what it meant.", he continued in a short explanation, his heart clenching in remembering his past self and position. It was so indescribable. Feeling all alone, just in a dark and lonely void. Thinking about it now, Arthur has come to fully realize how much Francis meant to him.

Many emotions flickered briefly across Francis' face, and then it softened to a light look of sadness. It so said much in miniscule volumes. Arthur felt like he had to say more, so he did.

"When I figured out that God, being the merciful being he's supposed to be, sent you for me, I realized how delusional I had been. I never believed in Him. Not ever. I thought he was striking down at me due to..my past unfortunate life. But when he sent an angel to fix me, I became so grateful. And I'm grateful of you Francis.", he murmured quietly, his face flushing lightly at his confession. In return, his love gave a compassionate squeeze to his hands, and leaned in to press a love-filled kiss to his cheek, strong and passionate and lingering.

When Arthur saw the way tears brimmed over Francis' eyes, he was surprised, his eyebrows raising at such a blatant expression of his emotion.

Pulling him into a close embrace, Francis whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you." Arthur's lips softened into a smile, and he closed his eyes and returned the hug, holding his love and his life closer.

Upon opening his eyes, he could see God's frozen tears descending from the Heavens.

Blinking, he realized that it was not such a foolish thing, but instead small petals of snowflakes. His eyes growing expanded, he pulled back gently from Francis and grinned, his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth.

"Francis, it's snowing!", he said with pure excitement, glancing around and above, seeing the curtains of gentle snowflakes floating down. Wiping at his eyes, Francis smiled and nodded. "_Oui, _so it is.", he murmured, and only watched Arthur, disregarding the expected occurrence of nature.

"It's so beautiful.", Arthur breathed in awe, gazing up into the ominous clouds, which continued letting out the graceful layers of snow. His lips softening into a smile filled with adoration, Francis nodded, keeping his eyes gazing at Arthur's curious and bright expression. "Yes.", he replied, "it is."

* * *

><p>The night was drawing to a close. Arthur felt that this day had passed both slowly, and too soon. In two days he was leaving. Francis was still keeping on a cheerful face, but Arthur knew better.<p>

Nonetheless, Arthur focused on driving the negative thoughts away, and focused on the present. Enveloped in Francis' arms, watching a movie together to bring the day to a peaceful end. Whenever Arthur glanced out the window, the snow continued to fall. It was a lot lighter than a few hours ago, back at the park.

They had chosen to watch _Ratatouille_, apparently. Arthur was too content and open-minded to care, and Francis felt like greeting his childhood movie once more. So, now watching talking mice on the screen, they were huddled together on the floor, on top of tassel pillows with plush blankets secured around them. With Francis' arms around Arthur, the Brit's head was resting on his chest, his eyes drawn to the TV, the animated colors and movements relaxing.

Arthur chuckled whenever the short, mustached French chef came out, blubbering obscenities at Linguini, the main character. Or was the mouse the main character? Arthur couldn't decide. When it got to the part when Linguini was kissing the French girl (he couldn't remember her name), Arthur yawned.

"'M tired.", he mumbled, and turned his face to hide it in the fabric of Francis' sweater, and then slid to move over the other, simply resting on top of him, his arms falling to rest at Francis' sides. He heard him let out a wheeze of an exhale from his weight. "Ngh, Arthur, you're heavier than you appear, dear.", Francis complained, his hands meeting Arthur's slim hips. Sighing softly at the comfort of Francis' warmth, he murmured into his chest, "Dun care, you bloody git." He felt the stomach and chest below him tremble, eminent vibrations of chuckles in his ears.

When he suddenly heard an "_J'adore tu._" whispered into his ear, he jumped slightly at the loving tone, and raised his head to look into Francis' tender eyes. He blushed, recognizing one of the words, and didn't say anything in return. Instead, he gently returned his head to Francis' chest, and trailed a hand up to sort his fingers through Francis' soft, golden locks.

The silence that followed was both heavy and relaxing. Arthur, feeling warm hands traveling up and down his back repeatedly, occasionally reaching up to stroke his short locks, and then down again to rest on his thighs, felt turned on. He let out a stuttered exhale when the hands roamed up his thighs, over his backside,up his back and then a hand cupped over the back of his neck, the other at the small of his back, in the curve.

Biting his lip, Arthur shifted off of the other, resting back on the pillows, on his side. Francis, in return, curled an arm around him and held him. Remaining silent, and ignoring the slight arousal, Arthur, with little interest, returned his eyes to the screen. He no longer felt tired.

It seemed like forever until the movie ended. Even if Arthur hadn't seen it before, it briefly earned his interest and attention. It was only diverted to Francis. And once the credits rolled, Arthur didn't hesitate to move to straddle Francis' hips, his legs pressed into his sides.

A smirk instantly spread over Francis' lips, and his hands wandered onto Arthur's knees. With his eyelids half-mast over his eyelids, Arthur leaned down to gently kiss him on the lips, his hands holding his cheeks, feeling his stubble scratch his palms.

A hum vibrated in Francis' throat as he returned it, reveling in Arthur's touch. His hands slid up his thighs, over the fabric of his pyjama bottom, and over his sides. Pulling back to inhale, Arthur opened his eyes to look down at him, until he saw Francis' eyelids open, revealing his alluring turquoise eyes. A soft smile drifted across Arthur's lips, and Francis returned it.

"You know..", Francis began in a whisper, his smile softening, "It was much more difficult to make you smile. I'm glad I can witness such beauty more often." In reply, a blush coursed over Arthur's face, and he blinked a few times, before he laughed lightly, and ducked down to hide his face in Francis' neck.

"Shut up..you dolt.", he mumbled.

Chuckling, Francis grinned. "No need to be shy.", he teasingly said, earning a small, weak smack to his chest. "I said shut up!", Arthur protested, pulling back to glare at him. Francis only laughed, and murmured, "You're so cute."

"I'm gonna kill you some day, Francis.", Arthur ground out, and then brought the little exchange to an end by pressing his lips to his lover's in an open kiss. Once he heard Francis chuckle, he reached a hand up to file his fingers through his long locks and grip on before pulling lightly.

The hands resting on his sides moved around to grab onto his backside, Arthur's lips pausing. When he softly pressed his tongue against Francis' bottom lip, the lips spread and he felt a tongue meet his half-way. Humming with pleasure at the touch, Arthur began to lovingly kiss him, their lips softly embracing.

One of the hands moved from him, and he heard the click of the TV, assuming he turned it off with the remote. Arthur briefly considered it, his mind going blank when the hand rested on his thigh. Even little touches like those turned him on, and now that it became more distinguished, Arthur noticed his arousal was becoming more apparent.

Pausing, he remembered his desire, and then gently pulled away to look down at the other. In return, Francis opened his eyes as well, to gaze up at him with a haze of love and lust in his eyes. A lazy, but gentle, smile slowly spread over the Frenchman's lips, his eyelids drooping half-way down his eyes. Arthur's heart jumped and his eyes widened at such a cute, yet beautiful sight. With his long, golden hair splayed about, and his lips wet from his own.

Sucking in a breath, Arthur sat up, his hands trailing down Francis' chest and stomach. He felt his hands move to rest over his thighs. "Francis..", he whispered, gazing down at him with such want. Francis only smirked, and reached a hand up to gingerly touch his cheek with the back of his fingers, running them over the skin repeatedly. Arthur instantly raised his hand to grab Francis', and turned it over to press it to his cheek.

After a moment, he curled his fingers around Francis', and gently lowered their hands, before letting his go. "I'll be right back.", Arthur said, before he stood from the other. He gave Francis one last look, seeing his confused expression, before he held up a finger, and hurriedly began towards the staircase.

Taking two at a time, he strode to their bedroom, and made way to the nightstand beside their canopy bed within. Instantly pulling the drawer open, he shoved the disregarded things aside, and once locating the strip of condoms and the almost-empty bottle of lubricant, he tore a condom off the many, and kept the bottle in hand once he returned the drawer to it's previous state.

Upon returning to where Francis lay in the disgruntled bed of pillows and plush blankets in the living room, he saw he was watching him with an impatient look. "How could you leave me like that? Who would tend to this without you?", Francis jokingly whined with a distraught expression. Rolling his eyes, Arthur scoffed as he approached with the needed supplies in his hands. "What are you talking about, fro-", he began but then saw how the front of Francis' sweatpants were tented. Instantly, Arthur laughed, and sat back down beside him.

"Can't you wait a bloody minute?", he said between chuckles, and moved to straddle him again after setting down the condom and lubricant, a grin adorning his lips. Francis only smiled, and raised his hands to instantly work on getting Arthur's pyjama top off. Growing silent, Arthur shifted on top of him, feeling his face flush lightly as he gazed down at the Frenchman.

When Francis' warm hands met his chest, pushing his pyjama top aside, Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, and his hands clenched lightly. He could see the smile on Francis' lips soften as his hands traveled lower, feeling the bumps and indents of his conspicuous ribcage. They touched his belly lightly, and, without warning, one moved to grip Arthur's penis through his pyjama bottom.

Letting out a surprised groan, Arthur's mouth fell open slightly. Instantly, a grin spread over Francis' lips. "So needy of you, frog.", Arthur breathed, and felt his cock grow slightly stiffer. Francis had no response, so instead, he reached his hands up to completely pull Arthur's top off, discarding it to his side. Arthur did the same for Francis; reaching down to slide his sweater up and over his head, before tossing it over his shoulder. As Francis had done, he let his hands admire his hairy chest and his belly.

When Francis reached around to roughly grab his backside, Arthur bit his lip and then finally reached down to grasp Francis through his sweatpants, earning a quiet appreciative noise. But instead of touching him further, Arthur moved his hands to place them on the blankets on either side of Francis, before he began to rock his hips down into Francis', instantly providing pressure and friction.

He heard a muffled moan elude from Francis' throat, and he returned it more openly, craning his head back and letting his eyes fall close as he ground his hips against his boyfriend's. Hands gripped his sides, and he felt the body below him begin to roll his hips back up in sync.

"God, Francis!", Arthur gasped, and felt his gut tighten with pleasure, winding up and tightening. A small grunt came from the other, before Francis replied breathlessly, "I've been called similar names." Arthur ignored his smart-ass reply, and hesitantly stopped moving his hips to sit up and scoot back to yank Francis' sweatpants and underwear down in one sweeping motion, the layers of clothing growing agitating.

Glancing up to look at Francis, he saw his tongue swipe out to run over his bottom lip hungrily. Returning his attention to the red flushed erection presented before him, he reached down to fluidly stroke him a few times, earning a little moan from the other. Pleased with the brief response, but too impatient to continue, Arthur silently stood up on his slightly wobbling legs to push his own pyjama bottom down along with his underwear. He grew shy too soon with Francis' eyes fixing on him, so he sat back down to straddle him once more. Francis' cock pressed against his inner thigh, making blood flow into Arthur's already-flushed face.

Arthur bit his lip when Francis reached a hand up to return the favor, sensually stroking his arousal a few times. He reached down to gently take his hand away, seeing the slightly confused yet curious expression over Francis' facial features as he simply held it with his own hand. Arthur paused, taking the time to swallow down the lump in his throat, and felt his heart hammer relentless in his chest, making blood course faster through his body, which went mostly to his face and ears.

"Francis..", he began in a murmur, and then willed himself to speak with more courage, "I have something to ask of you." He averted his gaze down to Francis' bare stomach, before flickering them back up to meet Francis' curious eyes. When no response came but silent agreement, he cleared his throat. "I..want to know, if it's alright with you, if I could..uh, top. At least once.", he said with miniscule hesitance, his face burning with embarrassment.

Noticing how Francis blinked thrice times, Arthur worried at his bottom lip. The hand in his gave a small squeeze to his fingers, and a small, meek smile ghosted over Francis' lips, his eyes understanding and gentle. "Of course.", Francis answered, his voice sincere. Arthur raised his eyebrows lightly, not expecting such a blatant and accepting answer as such.

"But", Francis continued, Arthur tensing, "I have only been submissive once or twice in the past..I may not be such a good bottom." Arthur, relaxing his shoulders, only shook his head. "No, I'm sure you're perfect..seeing as you are when you're..uh.", Arthur began but then trailed off, realizing what he was saying. But Francis caught him, and grinned smugly. "_Allez-y. _What were you saying, my dear?", Francis purred, raising his hand to touch Arthur on the cheek.

"No matter", Arthur began, gently pushing Francis' hand away, "As long as you are comfortable with it.." Arthur looked at him with a hidden hope, his fingers fidgeting with Francis' hand in his. Smiling, Francis looked at him with tenderness, "Arthur, if you want to, I am fine with it. And, I have..been wanting to experience it with you nonetheless."

Blushing at his words, Arthur nodded. He shifted on Francis, and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Seeing a look of desire in Francis' eyes, he reached down to fist Francis' cock a few times in his hand, letting Francis' hand go to trail his over his own belly, and downwards to stroke his own erection a few times as well.

He heard Francis' breath hitch, and Arthur smiled. When he felt Francis become fully erect in his hand, he removed his hand and placed it on Francis' stomach. "Can you.. turn over, then?", he asked softly.

"I can't when you're on top of me, Arthur."

Shifting off of him, Arthur moved aside, whilst mumbling, "I know, you idiot." Smirking as he turned over onto his stomach, propped up on his elbows, Francis looked at him with a teasing look in his eyes. But then he paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "I'm curious", he spoke up, "How many times have you topped before?"

Arthur blinked a few times as he reached for the lubricant. He sat on his calves and thought. Hesitating, he raised his eyes to meet Francis', "Uh..I think..", he began, and mentally remembered the experiences in the past, "eight times?"

Francis arched a brow. "How many partners have you had, then?"

Sighing, Arthur dismissively waved his hand as he rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Not many. Like, five fans in the past, and one serious lover.", he admitted, and let his eyes focus on the other's again. "No matter, can I finger you now?", he asked with both bluntness and impatience, with his brow furrowed. He noticed Francis' little smug grin, and then he nodded nonchalantly.

"Keep in mind I haven't bottomed in years.", he said lightly, and then diverted his gaze to the tassel pillows. Arthur hadn't said anything as he shifted to straddle Francis' legs, resting on his own calves to relieve weight. Opening the lubricant bottle's cap with a quiet pop, he smirked lightly to himself upon seeing and feeling Francis twitch slightly below him. Spreading some over his fingers, he closed it again and returned it to the blankets beside them, and continued to sit there for a moment, letting the substance warm on his fingers. He listened to the sound of Francis' breathing, and watching as his shoulders and back moved slightly after each inhale and exhale.

Smiling softly to himself, he decided he gave it enough time, and moved closer, and let his eyes drift slowly down Francis' back – studying the small scar in the middle of his back, the birth marks and almost unnoticeable moles about. "You have a nice back, Francis.", he murmured, raising his other hand to place it on the smooth skin, caressing lightly. "Beautiful, even."

He heard him let out a stuttered breath, and then a small laugh followed, "Thank you."

And with that, Arthur ran his hand residing on Francis' back downwards to slide it over his backside. He felt him tense up a little. Shifting slightly, Arthur felt his heart hammer and his hands grow sweaty with anxiety. He didn't want to fuck this up, even if he has topped more often than not with his previous sexual partners.

Spreading Francis' cheeks open, he felt his ears burn when he gave his entrance a long look. He noticed that Francis lowered his torso onto the pillows, no longer supported by his elbows, his face now hidden in the plush abyss.

"Okay. Just tell me if it's uncomfortable or something.", he murmured, before bringing his wet hand up, and swallowed down the rock residing in his throat. For some reason, he grew very embarrassed and his heart was racing like he was a teenager having sex for the first time when he eased his index finger inside of Francis. It met minimal resistance, the lubricant fulfilling it's duty. He heard Francis suck in a breath, and felt the muscles around his finger contract and clench lightly.

Biting softly on the inside of his cheek, Arthur rested his other fingers against Francis' back side as he slowly moved it back out, before returning it. Then, he hooked his finger downwards, towards Francis' stomach, and ran it along the wall of muscle until he felt Francis' hips jerk, and a breathless gasp elude. These indications of pleasure made Arthur's blood run southwards.

Running his other hand up Francis' back as he slowly moved his finger, he let his eyes travel to look at the back of Francis' head, seeing his hair spilled over his shoulders. Keeping his eyes on Francis, he gently let his middle finger join his index. He saw how Francis fidgeted. His shoulders rolled and he shifted to rest his head on his forearm.

Averting his eyes to where his fingers were, he curled them down and searched for Francis' prostate once more. When a small groan welcomed Arthur's ears, Arthur smiled lightly to himself, and began moving his fingers in and out, pushing in until knuckle-deep.

"Arthur..", he heard Francis whisper his name. Blushing lightly, Arthur licked his lips and moved his fingers a few more times, and then eased in a third. He heard a quiet noise which sounded like a groan. Arthur was sure to move his fingers out with care - slow and deep. But it didn't last too long.

"Arthur, please.", Francis murmured hurriedly, his hand reaching back to rest over his backside. Arthur swallowed heavily and hummed lightly, before giving his fingers a few more thrusts and then retracted them. He could hear Francis panting, and Arthur saw him prop up on his elbow again, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the Brit. His face was flushed, and his eyes dilated.

Reaching out to take the condom and open it, Arthur quickly discarded the wrapper, and sat on his calves as he slipped it on. Flickering his eyes upwards, he saw how Francis was eyeing him hungrily, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. It made Arthur feel a pull in his gut, which was definitely of arousal. Shifting to position himself, Arthur kept his eyes on Francis' hazy turquoise irises as he did so. Placing a hand flatly on the blankets below them, he nudged Francis' legs open and positioned between them. His heart jumped lightly when he felt Francis' hand that was previously resting on his backside move to touch his thigh.

"Be gentle, _amour_.", Francis whispered, and then turned his head and dropped his elbow to rest his forehead on his forearm. Arthur, licking his lips, leaned over to press strong, passionate and tender kisses to Francis' back and shoulder blades, reaching his hand up to rest it over the curve of it. He moved to press his lips to Francis' neck, brushing his hair aside with his fingertips.

He heard a breathless chuckle, "I wouldn't have assumed you were so loving." Arthur, pulling back a little, only murmured in response, "I'm not. But you made me this way." Silence followed, and Arthur welcomed it as an opportunity to grab the lubricant bottle and pop it open to spread some of it onto his arousal, and applying some to Francis' entrance.

"Okay.", Arthur whispered, and shifted to support his weight with a hand, as he gripped his cock and guided it to slip it (with minimal resistance) into his boyfriend. With the head only inside, Arthur bit down on his lip and felt Francis positioned himself a little better – arching his backside upwards. Feeling his face flush, Arthur ran his hand up the toned back before him, and down again to pull his backside open. He gazed down and watched as he gingerly arched his hips slowly, his cock slipping more inside, disappearing inch by inch until Arthur was pressing his hips into Francis.

A quiet groan emitted from Francis, Arthur seeing him pull one of the tassel pillows into his arms, to rest his head on it. "Is this good?", Arthur asked in a murmur, his eyes fixed on the back of Francis' head, staring at his golden locks laying across his shoulders and the pillow. A short nod, and a whisper of, "Yes."

Furrowing his brow in concentration, Arthur hooked his hand around Francis' hip and pulled it up a little, trying to angle it right. Francis followed silently, allowing him the control. When satisfied with the position, Arthur set his hand down onto the blanket as his other, and grunted lightly as he pulled out slowly, before rolling his hips back inwards, until his skin met Francis'. A breathless moan.

With his arms and hands supporting his weight, Arthur leaned over Francis' bare back, and whispered into his ear, "You're so hot inside." And then promptly rocked his hips back and forth again as he watched Francis with half-lidded eyes.

"M-Mmh.", Francis made a muffled noise into the pillow, his hair shielding his face. Letting his eyes fall close, Arthur's mouth fell open at the constricting sensation as he withdrew and inserted again, but with deliberate gentleness. Gripping the plush blanket, Arthur rested his forehead on Francis' shoulder as he bucked his hips with a bit more power, forcing Francis' hips down into the pillows at the force. Another muffled moan.

Lifting his head again, Arthur opened his eyes to try and find Francis' face. Instead his eyes met with hair once more. Stopping, he balanced himself on a hand as he reached up to delicately brush the blonde locks aside, until he could see Francis' furrowed brow and barely-opened, beautiful eyes. His face was tinted a pink.

"Why are you..stopping?", Francis breathed, and shifted a bit, moving to prop up on his elbows again. Arthur only smiled. With their position, it was a bit difficult to maintain a kiss. But Francis initiated the kiss by angling his torso, his arm reaching back to hold Arthur's heated cheek as he pressed his lips strongly to the other's. Humming in delight, Arthur lovingly moved his lips back against his lover's, and then dropped his hand to the blanket to support his weight as he began to move his hips again.

Francis broke the kiss for a gasp, his eyes opening to stare into Arthur's as Arthur rocked his cock back and forth into him, with fluid movement. Blushing at their locked eye contact as he continuously rolled his hips into the other, Arthur watched as Francis arched his head, his hair falling onto his back and he let out a breathless moan. Easing back down onto the pillows, Francis let out a sequence of noises that brought more arousal into Arthur.

"Please, faster, Arthur!", Francis almost whimpered. Arthur, licking his lips, began to snap his hips forward vigorously, their skin meeting with apparent slaps. Throwing his head back, Arthur let out a groan as the heat captured around him, repeatedly and constantly. Francis followed suit, but more often.

Leaning down to whisper, "Do you like it when I fuck you hard like this, Francis?", into his ear, Arthur felt the tightened sensation in his gut grow almost unbearable, and he felt that familiar feeling in his stomach. He only received a jumble of incoherent words in return.

Slowing his hips to deeper, sensual thrusts, he gripped onto his hips and pressed strongly down into Francis, his skin against skin. Licking his lips at the intense heat and pressure, Arthur let out a breathless exhale before he whispered, "I'm so deep inside you. Do you love it?"

"Yes, a-ah, yes.", Francis breathed impatiently, and began to push his hips up into Arthur for more stimulation. "Mm, good.", was all Arthur said before he withdrew and returned his hands back to the floor for balance and then began to thrust down into Francis again, but with more strength.

A string of heavy groans and panting followed, before Francis hurriedly gasped, "A-Arthur, I'm coming now." But Arthur couldn't really pay attention to what was said, because the intense tight sensation inside had twisted and turned until he couldn't hold back anymore, and his ejaculation filled the condom, his hips weakly snapping forward a few more times.

Panting heavily as he continued rocking his hips a few more times, he watched with hazy and dilated eyes as Francis arched his back and his head was thrown back, his alluring golden locks splaying across his back as he followed suit.

Silence remained as Arthur slowly withdrew himself, his chest heaving a little as he sat back on his calves and sluggishly removed his condom, before tying it off. His legs wobbled as he stood to pace into the kitchen to discard it into the garbage bin. Returning to Francis, who was now resting on his back, panting heavily, with his hand resting on his stomach, Arthur sat back down on the mound of blankets and pillows, before he scooted down to lay beside the Frenchman.

A moment passed of silence.

"I think I ruined one of the tassel pillows.", Francis mumbled in complaint. Arthur only shrugged lightly, "We can wash it out, I'm sure." When Francis turned his head to gaze at him, Arthur smiled lightly, and then gladly accepted the embrace when Francis offered it with open arms.

Comfortable silence lingered, with Arthur resting in Francis' comforting arms, the growing warmth soothing Arthur to a numb state of drowsiness, his eyelids growing heavy. The rhythms of their breathing brought ease to Arthur's mind.

"Arthur..I never knew you were into dirty talk.", Francis' murmured words broke the peaceful quiet, stirring Arthur from his state. Humming lightly, Arthur shifted, and draped his arm over Francis' waist, drawing closer to the warmth and comfort. "If I had known", Francis continued, "I could have put it to use.."

Shrugging with a lack of interest, Arthur replied with a mumble, "I only do it when I top..I don't really..hm, care either way." Instantly, he relaxed and melted into Francis' side, letting his mind clear, and he sought slumber to over take. "I see. Sleep well, my sweetheart.", was the last thing Arthur heard before silence caught it's place again, and he fell to the sweet, tender darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>It was no hassle before the departure of his flight.<p>

He had previously packed his needed items (intending to leave almost all his possessions with Francis), so he could relax the few hours beforehand. Now, those hours had passed. He spent them around Francis – doing one last lesson of French, reading together with glasses of wine, etc. They were sure to share many embraces, showing their love for one another. Arthur was more loving than usually, as though he was guilty.

And he was.

But now, they were standing together, in the respective terminal for Arthur's flight. With his carry-on suitcase sitting by his leg, his coat and book in his hand, Arthur felt his heart clench with both sadness and guilt at seeing Francis' expressionless face. But yet it held so many emotions. It made Arthur feel bad about it all. But he knew he had to do this.

"I..", Arthur began in a quiet voice, ten minutes before the boarding began, his eyes downcast to the ugly carpeted floor of the airport. But he was cut off before he could continue, seeing as he was pulled into a very enthusiastic hug, arms around his waist, and he felt lips press tersely to his cheek.

Blood rushing into his cheeks, Arthur felt his heart swell with both embarrassment and love. When Francis pulled back to smile at him with encouragement, Arthur couldn't help but glance around before settling his gaze back on the other. He returned the smile lightly, but it was more forced.

"_Tu vas me manquer._", Francis said with ease, his eyes softening but his lips remaining in a smile. His hands lingered on Arthur's sides. Arthur couldn't translate it with the scarce French he's learned, but he could guess. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek softly, and pursed a light smile. "I hope you can forgive me, Francis. I will miss you.", he murmured, and then hid his face by pulling Francis into a embrace, his arms gently hooked around his neck, burying his head into Francis' shoulder. He could smell his scent, and it only made him more disconsolate.

"No, don't be ridiculous. I have nothing to forgive.", Francis said softly, "We will see each other during your breaks, hm?" Arthur could tell he was holding on a strong front, but it was alright. Pulling back to smile, just as a voice announced the boarding of his flight, he nodded. "Even on weekends.", he confirmed, and then shoved his insecurity away to press his lips delicately to Francis', reaching up to cup his cheeks. The hands on his back slid up in a soothing way, the lips on his kissing back lightly.

Arthur pulled back to give one last smile, before he gently pulled away. Clutching his coat and book in his arm as he reached down to take hold of his suitcase, Arthur looked at Francis with a soft, yet sad, expression, and then nodded.

"Well, I'll talk to you later in London.", Arthur finished with, before he waved lightly, and only watched until Francis made a strained, forced smile as he waggled his fingers in a goodbye wave. Turning to stride towards the forming line, he felt his heart clench painfully. The emptiness he was so used to instantly claimed it's spot. And so soon. It clenched at his heart, physically.

When positioned in the line, he gave one last glance back, and saw Francis continue to stand there, his hands in his pockets with his face adorned with distress. Arthur furrowed his brow and felt the urge to comfort him, but just as Francis noticed him looking, the Frenchman turned and strode away, his long locks bouncing slightly behind him as he went, leaving a forlorn Arthur as his number for boarding was called.

But as Arthur had made his way into the long pathway that led to the plane, he realized he needn't be so distraught. He had known this would occur. The pain to return, the _loneliness_. But it would be only for a period of time. He knew Francis would do whatever he could to visit Arthur constantly. And that's what made Arthur make a little perk of a smile as he took his seat beside the window, after easing through the row of people.

There was so much to come. With how much Francis had blessed him with, _given _him, he had promised himself, and Francis, that he would lead a respectful and meaningful life, unlike in his ghastly past. Gazing out at the unmoving lane, Arthur knew that his future life with Francis was inevitable, and he would make the best of it.

As he thought this, he felt like he was missing something. Thinking back, his eyes lit up at recalling. Hurriedly, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone. With a light smile ghosting over his lips, he flipped it open and went to the contacts. Once locating Francis', he opened a new text. His fingers tapped against the tiny keyboard as he wrote it out.

"_I forgot to say. I love you!_"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Only the epilogue left. :) Thanks for sticking around!


	17. Epilogue

A constant thrum numbed Arthur's restless mind.

But then, he realized it was his heart beating a mile a minute. As usual when he felt anxious, his palms were sweaty. He felt hot in his clothing, and his stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies. With his face flushed, he was being led snail-slow down the long section which connected the plane to the terminal. People were shoulder to shoulder, and it seemed like the crowd was moving purposefully slow to make Arthur even more uneasy than he already was.

It's been a long four years, but now, he was free for a few months. Which meant he could spend every waking hour with Francis. Throughout the years, they've visited each other constantly. Every day on breaks (their first Christmas was shortly after Arthur left), and almost every Saturday. But seeing as Arthur spent those good four years working for a Bachlor's Degree, it felt like he was released from a constricting cage. Like breathing in a fresh breath of air. He hoped Francis was excited as he was.

Arthur had fantasized about their reuniting during his flight to Paris. It was all very sappy, really. But Arthur knew something along those imaginations would occur. Thinking about it now, he was becoming more impatient, but then the mob dispersed out into the terminal, within the even larger group of people. Shifting past the many shoulders and keeping his bag over his shoulder close, he finally broke through into the waiting area, with many seats and people loitering. And enough space to look for a head of long, blonde hair.

But after scanning the many people multiple times, he was found with disappointment. Biting the inside of his cheek softly, he paced out of the terminal, into a long corridor filled with people, his eyes worriedly observing the many different faces.

His heart sinking into his stomach, he felt a wave of hurt and disappointment. Francis was supposed to meet him here! Arthur even imagined the scenario of it, in various ways. But now all of them were going down the drain. Sighing, Arthur began to turn, with his bag slung over his shoulder, to sit down and text Francis.

But just as he was turning, he recognized wavy, golden hair. Snapping back, he widened his eyes when he saw Francis staring straight at him with a big, blindingly bright smile on his lips. Noticing how the Frenchman sped up his pace to striding, Arthur began in his direction as well, a smile continuing to grow over his lips until it revealed his teeth, his heart beginning to hammer inside.

His stomach soared with butterflies when he approached Francis with swift steps, dropping his bag near as he came face-to-face with his love, before throwing his arms around his shoulders. Laughing, Francis kissed him multiple times on the side of the face as he returned it with such delight and enthusiasm, that Arthur felt such love for him, and felt love in return.

Overwhelmed with the emotion, Arthur ignored his insecurity and pressed his lips passionately to Francis', not caring they were amidst a crowd of people, his fingers delicately curling into the soft locks of his charming curls as he felt the arms around his waist tighten.

* * *

><p>The soft clicking of the clock on the wall was all Arthur heard, but his mind was too enveloped with the paperwork scattered on his desk to notice, his hand aching from writing his signatures multiple times, and filling out forms. Sighing as he ran a hand through his short hair (messing it up further), he glanced at his watch, and noticed it was almost lunch break.<p>

It allowed him to relax a bit, and return to his paperwork. He did a swish with his wrist one last time – signing his name lastly, before he placed his pen down, and righted the pile of papers, the papers hitting against the hard surface with a few soft smacks. After placing them down and stretching his arms with a groan, he stood, his chair clattering a bit as it slid backwards.

Just was he was closing his laptop, he heard a few knocks on the door.

Growing slightly irritated at not getting a break, he frowned as he called out, "Come in!" He smoothed out his coat as the door was opened, his evergreen eyes lifting to scrutinize who it was. But instead of another expected disturbance, it was his husband. He smiled softly, and walked around his desk.

"_Bonjour_.", came the greeting of his pompous, but yet gorgeous lover, his blue eyes wrinkled at the ends with a bright smile as he approached the disgruntled Brit. Letting out an exhale, Arthur nodded. "Hello." Now standing before him, Arthur's smile twitched with excitement as Francis leaned in to press a gentle, tender kiss to his lips, his hands resting over Arthur's arms. But it was just brief, only for Arthur to return it lightly.

Pulling back, Francis grinned, "How is your day?" Arthur shrugged, "Average. But I think it improved a bit since..oh, I don't know, about twenty seconds ago." He smiled teasingly. Francis let out a laugh, and Arthur's heart swelled. He was so lucky to be (happily) married to such a charming and respectful man.

"So, what brings you here to my work, Francis?", Arthur prodded lightly, shifting on his feet. Francis simply raised his hand, and that's when Arthur noticed the bag being held. Arching a brow, he raised his eyes to his. "I don't think I've made you lunch in a while.", Francis mused, smiling softly.

"You do know I have money to go out and buy lunch, right?", Arthur deadpanned, not very amused, his brow furrowing, "You didn't have to drive out here." Only shaking his head, Francis chuckled. "_Non_, I do realize this. But why not prepare a meal for my love to enjoy? It would make me happy, Arthur, and you want me to be happy, _oui_?"

Grumbling, Arthur snatched the bag. "You're such a twat.", he ground out, before turning to approach his desk. That means not having to drive around looking for a place to eat, he supposed. Francis had a smug look adorning his features as he followed. Sitting down again, Arthur delicately cleared his papers before opening the bag, eyeing Francis who was standing beside him with a hand resting on his shoulder, and pulled it's contents out.

"You know..", Francis began in a murmur, earning Arthur's attention once more. Glancing up at him, Arthur arched a brow, and then froze, recognizing his expression. Sighing with exasperation, Arthur threw his hands up. "Don't start this with me again, Francis. We've already gone over it!", he said before Francis could continue.

"I am simply asking you to _consider _the option of loving a needy, unloved child! Is it so unreasonable?", Francis basically whined, forcing a look of heart-break onto his expression, directed at his husband. Standing to direct a half-hearted glare at him, Arthur felt annoyed by Francis' display.

But when Francis wouldn't drop his childish look of desire and begging, Arthur let out another sigh of annoyance, and rolled his eyes. "If we can figure a schedule out, perhaps.", he murmured, flickering his eyes to the lunch resting innocently on his desk, his fingers fiddling with his coat. When hands met his cheeks, he lifted his eyes and saw how Francis pressed a delicate kiss to his forehead.

Sputtering, Arthur blushed. "Ah, I knew you were a softie inside.", Francis said, and then beamed. Pushing Francis' warm hands away, Arthur scowled, "It depends! We have busy schedules, Francis. We can't just adopt a child and expect to leave them at home for hours on end, to fend for themselves! It's all depends on us."

Seeing a soft, understanding and gentle smile spread over Francis' lips, Arthur paused, his furrowed brow smoothing out. When Francis raised a hand to cup his cheek again, he felt blood flow into his face.

"My dear, I have planned every detail out since you admitted your love to me. Once we do officially agree to support a child, I decided I would leave my job. Even if I do love it, I know I will love our child more.", he spoke softly, and then lastly pressed his lips to Arthur's in a light peck. Arthur stared at him once he pulled back.

His face going blank, Arthur continued to stare. Then he laughed lightly, and reached up to grab Francis' hand, which he held, looking down to admire their linked fingers, and the bands that represented their binding. "You are so predictable, Francis.", he murmured as he raised his eyes to gaze lovingly into the royal blue irises that he always seemed to grow lost in all the time.

* * *

><p>It was when they were arguing over which rug to put in the living room when Francis blurted out a marriage proposal to Arthur. Francis won that argument, just for once.<p>

* * *

><p>Seven years passed since their marriage, when it happened. Two years went by in those seven before Arthur hesitantly agreed to adopt children to occupy their household (with Francis to watch over them). The moment Arthur laid eyes on two twins sleeping together in a crib, he insisted to adopt them. Later did they learn, that the eldest out of the two – with bright blue eyes – was the most energetic, and the younger one, with violet-like eyes, was mellow and accepting for a child. Francis had grown to love them instantly, and Arthur had the moment he laid his eyes on them.<p>

Nonetheless, that was about five years beforehand. It was only five months since the first day of school for their children, when Arthur died.

It's cause, which the doctor's learned when Francis brought him to be diagnosed, was a brain aneurysm that had ruptured. But, Arthur had passed away peacefully. No more pain; no more suffering. He didn't die alone, like he had assumed he would. It was during the night. The soft drumming of rain against the panels of their windows, a normal thing. But no one ever expects inevitable death. And especially not Francis.

He should have known. Should have been wary, or cautious. But no. Arthur had previously complained about neck pain, and excruciating headaches, but Francis had only given him pain pills, and hoped it would pass.

When he woke the next morning, with Arthur still resting curled in the Frenchman's arms, Francis had stayed in bed to admire Arthur's sleeping, strangely peaceful face. But when he noticed how pale his features appeared, he attempted to wake him. No matter his attempts, his husband's eyelids would not lift, revealing his striking emerald eyes.

* * *

><p>End of I'm So Lonely<p>

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading! \o/ If it weren't for my lovely readers, I would have positively given this up! But, being urged by all the lovely reviews, I worked and worked on providing completion of this. And I'm thankful! I hope you all enjoyed this, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry if the ending upset any of you! I specifically remember thinking up this ending back in June. I was unsure how to bring this story to an end, but this came to mind, which I am pretty satisfied with. If you figured out _why _an aneurysm was the cause of death, you are very perceptive!


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